


Sell Me Candy

by roe87



Series: Steve/Bucky modern au's [3]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Boxing, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anxiety, Awkward Flirting, Bearded Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Boxer Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Coercion, Crime Drama, Crimes & Criminals, Daddy Kink, Debt, Flirting, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Implied Bottom Bucky Barnes, Implied Sexual Content, Irish Steve Rogers, Light Angst, Loan Shark Steve Rogers, M/M, Mob Boss Steve Rogers, Money, Nerd Bucky Barnes, Organized Crime, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Power Dynamics, Protective Steve Rogers, Repaying Debt, Sexual Coercion, Shy Bucky Barnes, Silver Fox Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Steve Rogers, Suspense, Twink Bucky Barnes, romantic suspense, sugar baby bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25386397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: Bucky is just a college student drowning in debt, and getting harassed by nasty debt collectors. On the advice of a friend, he goes to another loan shark for money: Steve Rogers from Flannagan's gym.Steve agrees to take over Bucky's debts, but Steve doesn't want money in repayments, he wants something else.How much is Bucky prepared to give?~~~For Bottom Bucky Bingo squares: Beard, and Twink.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Steve/Bucky modern au's [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350943
Comments: 680
Kudos: 756





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> _'Cause the boy with the cold hard cash_  
>  _Is always Mister Right._  
>    
> _~Material Girl, Madonna._

_I owe so much money_ , Bucky texted, finally admitting to his best friend Natasha, who was all the way back in Moscow with her own family. _I took out three loans to pay for all dad's medical bills and other debts._

 _Shit, Bucky,_ she replied. _Can't you declare yourself bankrupt or something? Get out of it?_

Bucky took his glasses off to wipe at his teary eyes. Then he replied, _these are scary guys, Nat. They're sending debt collectors round every other day now. Idk what to do._

 _If I had any money you know I'd give it to you,_ Nat replied. _Ok, look. I have an idea. There's an Irish boxing gym in Hell's kitchen called Flannagan's. My grandpa worked there when he lived in New York. Go down there, say that Romanov sent you, and you need to borrow some money at low interest. Ask for a guy called Rogers, he knew my grandpa._

Bucky read over the message, biting at his lip. Natasha was a good friend, but her family had always sounded a little bit scary to him, and Bucky was automatically wary.

He texted back, _Idk, Nat, how legit is this?_

Natasha replied with a heart emoji, then, _think of them as another loan shark, but because you know my family they won't charge you an arm and a leg. Literally._

"Jesus," Bucky murmured under his breath. "Thanks for the reminder, Natasha."

 _Oh, and_ , Nat added, _grandpa says that Rogers is fond of pretty boys with big eyes, so you should be greenlit no problem if you go down in person and bat your eyelashes at him._

Bucky's mouth dropped open in surprise. Nat sent some winking and kissing emojis to follow, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Thanks, Nat," he said to himself. He put his phone down and went to pour himself some coffee.

On his way to the kitchen there was a loud knock at his apartment door, making Bucky jump. He froze in fright, staring at the locked and bolted door. He'd pushed the dresser in front of it earlier, as had become habit recently due to unexpected visitors.

Another knock, louder this time.

Bucky didn't dare move. The lights weren't on in the apartment anyway, another habit he'd gotten into to try and avoid the frequent debt collectors who kept coming round.

How had they even gotten into the building?

_Shit._

Bucky's heart was hammering, but he was saved by his neighbor down the hall who was leaving their apartment and came out into the hallway. Whoever was at Bucky's door left in a hurry.

Bucky waited, rigid with fear, but he didn't hear them come back. He wilted with relief, and he certainly didn't need coffee now because his heart-rate was through the roof.

Bucky tiptoed back to his phone, sitting cross legged on the floor as he read Nat's new message, some more heart emojis. He texted back with shaky fingers, _ok, I'm going to call the gym tomorrow._

Nat replied immediately, _why don't you call now? They're open late. Isn't it only seven where you are?_

Bucky hadn't realised that. He wasn't exactly a gym going type, more of a nerd with his nose in a book type.

He opened his browser and looked up the gym. There it was. Looked pretty big too, from the Google pictures. And it was indeed still open.

Bucky took a deep breath and tapped the number to start the call. He put his phone to his ear as it rang.

He really didn't expect somebody to pick up so fast. "Yeah?" said a deep voice.

Bucky's heart shot up into his throat, but he swallowed past it. "M-may I speak to Mr. Rogers, please?"

"Who's askin'?" the voice drawled.

"Um, James," Bucky said. "Um, Romanov told me to ask for Mr. Rogers."

"Romanov, huh?" There was a deep chuckle. "I'm Rogers. What can I do for you?"

"Oh," Bucky stammered, all the more nervous. "I, um, I needed to... I need to ask for..."

"Money?" Rogers guessed. "Boxing lessons?"

Bucky swallowed. "Money," he managed to say. "I just need a low interest loan, sir."

Silence on the other end, and Bucky was fearful he was about to be rejected, then Rogers spoke again.

"Can you come by the gym?" he asked. "I usually do these meetings face to face. I'm old fashioned that way."

"Uh, y-yes..." Bucky glanced over to his door, worried for his safety tonight. "I'm afraid I can't come tonight, but is another day any good?"

"Sure, kid," Rogers drawled. "I'm in all day again tomorrow. Come by any time."

"Oh, okay." Bucky found himself nodding. "Thank you, sir."

Another chuckle in Bucky's ear. "I haven't done anything yet," he pointed out. "Give my best to Romanov, okay?"

"Sure," Bucky said, as the line went dead. Bucky looked at his phone screen to make sure the call was indeed over then he let out a long, hard sigh. He was sweating all over and his heart was pounding.

But he hadn't been told _no_.

Now he just had to go down to this gym tomorrow, hopefully dodge the debt collectors along the way, and try convince this Rogers to lend him the money.

~~

The gym was a little terrifying, Bucky found, when he went down there during his lunch break the next day.

Regular gyms were scary enough, and Bucky had usually avoided those too, but this place was something else. It felt _old_ , walking through the doors. There was vintage boxing memorabilia up on the walls; trophies, shirts, and photographs of men in the ring, as well as some very old band posters that Bucky only recognised because his friend back in high school had liked the same bands: The Dropkick Murphy's, The Dubliners, and a few more with Irish sounding names.

Faded and old boxing gloves were strung up along one wall with black and white photos of boxing champs, Bucky had to guess. Some of the photos showed bare knuckle boxing too, the contestants all covered in blood.

It was intimidating, especially to a nerd like Bucky.

He walked through the gym in a daze, flinching at the sounds of a fight; he'd been so jumpy lately. Then he realised it was just typical gym noises; some boxers sparring in two rings on either side of the large gym.

He had to stop gazing around like an idiot and find this Rogers. Bucky wasn't sure who to look for or who to ask for assistance, and he felt ridiculous standing there in his smart shirt and slacks, and still wearing his glasses. (He didn't have a steady job, and had to take any office temping work he could when it was offered. In fact he didn't have a lot of time before he had to race back across town to return to his temporary desk for minimal pay.)

A few heads turned his way to look at him, probably wondering what a nerd was doing wandering into a gym. Bucky almost turned around and walked out, then spotted someone walking over to meet him.

It was a huge guy; probably over six foot, and at least two hundred pounds by Bucky's estimate. He was older with greying hair and a beard, and he had a calmness about him that for some reason instantly put Bucky at ease.

"James?" he guessed, approaching Bucky.

This was the deep, velvety voice Bucky had heard last night on the telephone. Rogers.

Well, Bucky thought, unable to stop his eyes from raking over the very fit and attractive older man. If someone had said _dream_ _daddy_ , this was easily the image of a man Bucky would've conjured up. And here he was, standing right in front of Bucky and looking at him expectantly.

"Um, y-yes," Bucky said, remembering how to speak. "But, um, it's Bucky, actually. I don't go by James."

"Bucky." Rogers smiled at him like he was amused. "Alright. Why don't you come into to my office? We can talk more privately."

"Right," Bucky choked out, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and then his glasses and just generally fidgeting all the way to Rogers' office, where he showed Bucky in and shut the door.

"Have a seat." Rogers gestured to the chair across from a desk.

Bucky sat, expecting Rogers to take the seat on the other side, but Rogers surprised him by perching right on the edge of the desk near Bucky.

"Now," he said, looking at Bucky closely. "What do you need money for?"

Bucky felt like he was under an intense microscope, and he willed himself not to panic. "It's, um, to pay off some loans," he said quietly, the shame of it all still hanging over him.

"What did you take the loans out for?" Rogers asked calmly.

"I, um, I had to cover my father's hospital bills," Bucky explained, swallowing hard. "He was in hospital a long time before he... well, he died late last year, and then we found out he had more debts, so it was to help my mom."

"I see." Rogers nodded once. "Sorry to hear about your dad."

Bucky looked down, still pretty torn up about it. "Thanks."

"Where's your mom?" Rogers asked.

"She's back home," Bucky said, unsure how much personal information he should be giving away to a stranger.

"Where're you from?" Rogers asked.

"Indiana," Bucky told him, looking up. "I'm sorry, but why is that relevant?"

Rogers smiled at him, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. "Just checking you're not Italian. You're not, are you?"

"Um, no?" Bucky was surprised at that. "Why do you ask?"

"Your hair's quite dark," Rogers noted.

"I guess," Bucky said. "I'm definitely not Italian, that I know of. I think mom's side are from Texas originally, and dad's side have been in Indiana a long time."

"What about the rest of your family?" Rogers asked. "Couldn't they help you or your mom with the bills?"

"Anyone who's left is broke," Bucky admitted. "Dad just... well, he had a lot of gambling debts that we didn't know about. Then there was the hospital bills on top, it was just too much, and a bank wouldn't give anything to me."

"You are pretty young," Rogers noted. "You at college?"

"I was." Bucky smiled wryly. "Had to drop out and start working to try pay these debts."

"That's a shame." Rogers got up and slowly walked around to his seat. "What were you studying?"

"I was in medical school," Bucky said. He was still disappointed he'd had to leave.

"Smart kid, huh?" Rogers smiled at him as he sat down in the chair. "What did you wanna be? Doctor?"

"Well, yeah, but a psychiatrist," Bucky said. Though that option was probably out the window now.

Rogers' eyebrows flicked up. "One of those doctors. I see." He pulled out a notepad and pen, sliding them across the desk to Bucky. "Write down what you owe, and who to."

"Um, alright." Bucky's fingers shook some as he picked up the pen. He wrote down the names of his debtors, and the amounts he still owed. When he was done, he pushed the pad back to Rogers. "Um, look, Mr. Rogers," he tried to say.

"Steve," the older man said, picking up the notepad to read it.

"Um, Steve," Bucky amended, "I know it might seem like a lot to loan someone my age, but I can assure you I'm a hard worker and I do intend to pay back what I owe."

Steve looked at Bucky as his mouth spread into a grin. "That so?"

"Yes, sir," Bucky said without thinking, and instantly felt embarrassed at calling a hot older guy _sir._

Jesus, Bucky, he told himself, get a grip. If it hadn't been for Nat letting slip that Rogers even liked guys, Bucky wouldn't have been tripping over himself so much.

Because Bucky liked guys too, very much so. In fact he often had the hots for older men, but he hadn't exactly had the time to go on many dates the last couple years thanks to family stuff.

Bucky tried to get his head in the game. "If I can get a low interest loan, Mr. Rogers, I mean, Steve," he added when Steve gave him a pointed look. "I, um, I'll work very hard to pay it off."

Steve nodded. "Don't worry, Bucky. I'm sure we can work something out." He folded the paper on the notepad over, then slid it back across the desk. "Why don't you go ahead and write your address and cell phone number for me."

Bucky was already picking up the pen when he paused and said, "Why my address?"

Steve smiled at him. "What do you say I come by tomorrow afternoon, and we work things out?"

Bucky's mouth popped open in surprise, and he felt a certain tingle running over his skin.

Was he jumping out the frying pan into the fire here?

"Um, so I can get a loan?" he asked, trying to get some clarification.

Steve nodded once. "I'll make sure those guys don't bother you until we've worked something out."

 _Oh_ , Bucky thought. The split feeling of relief and now a new worry was... odd. Bucky felt wary, but he wrote down his address and his cell number anyway. What choice did he have?

He pushed the pad back across the desk, and Rogers smiled when he read it. "Great. What time shall I come by tomorrow? Are you working?"

"Um, yeah, I am," Bucky replied. "I can probably get off a little early if I ask. Maybe... four?"

"Four's great," Steve replied. "I'll see you then, Bucky."

And just like that, their meeting was over.

Bucky was shown out of the gym, found himself back on the loud New York City street and had to run for a bus to get back to work.

On the bus he wondered if he should tell Nat about the meeting he'd arranged for tomorrow. If _meeting_ was even the right word for it. Was it an unspoken thing, he wondered, to be pimped out for a loan? Was that how these things worked?

That was what this guy wanted, surely. Why else would he want to come over to Bucky's apartment?


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sm for reading my wip! I love reading your comments <3
> 
> ~~
> 
> big thanks to [Dready](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadlockholiday/pseuds/dreadlockholiday/works) for beta help with this chapter!
> 
> ~~

Bucky had a very restless night's sleep.

He knew he really couldn't go on like this, worrying when and where more debt collectors would call again, having nightmares over it and jumping at any little sound his neighbors made because he thought it was someone at his door.

On his way to work that morning, feeling exhausted, he debated with himself over what to do. Should he pack up and leave town?

But he didn't have anywhere to go, and he had no money left. There wasn't any scenario where he could escape these collectors, and if he did they'd only go after his mom and sister next.

So, naturally, his thoughts came back around to Steve and Bucky decided, to hell with it. He'd just let the man do what he wanted. If he was lucky, maybe it'd be one time only and he'd leave Bucky alone after that.

And, like, it wasn't like Steve was _unattractive_ or anything. Actually, quite the opposite, so...

Well, it wasn't just about looks, Bucky reasoned. It was the fact that being indebted to a stranger who also probably knew how to box and fight was more than a little frightening.

And Bucky's debt was _a lot_ of money. What would Steve expect from him, exactly? Was Bucky just getting himself into a worse situation here, or what?

Maybe... maybe Bucky could just hear him out tonight, and decide later based on more facts.

God, what had his life become. He should've been in college doing exams, not worrying about how much he was worth to be pimped out to loan sharks.

And when Bucky got into work, his supervisor handed him more letters addressed to him at the office. Bucky was so embarrassed, knew instantly they were probably from collectors. Bucky had only been at this office for two weeks, how had they even found him?

He spent another day worrying about it all, and was relieved when his request to leave early was granted. Bucky was exhausted from the stress. He'd barely eaten, was running on coffee and anxiety.

Natasha sent him a message when Bucky was on his bus home, asking if he'd spoken to Rogers already. Bucky deliberated over what to say, but the truth was that he hadn't gotten any solid details yet, so he didn't have much to tell Nat anyway.

He texted back that he was meeting Rogers later, which was true.

Bucky got off at his stop, walking the couple blocks to his apartment. He stopped dead as he turned the corner and spotted some big man he didn't know loitering outside the building's front door.

Another debt collector? Was he waiting to get inside and bang on Bucky's apartment door?

Bucky clutched his bag, ready to run. He held his breath as he hid and watched. The man was waiting, seeming a bit impatient, then the main door opened and a woman walked out; Bucky recognised her as one of the other tenants. With relief, he saw them clasp hands and walk off together.

Bucky wilted against the wall where he'd been hiding. This type of stress was not sustainable, he was so jumpy all the time and he hated it.

Checking the coast was clear, Bucky made a dash for his building and let himself in. He took the stairs, as they gave him less anxiety than being stuck in a small elevator alone.

When he let himself into his apartment, he found a card from a debt collector that'd been pushed under his door.

Bucky cursed quietly under his breath, shutting his door and bolting it tight. He was sick of living like this. It had to stop. He tossed his bag and jacket down on a chair, rubbing his hand on his face and pushing his glasses up to do so.

It was three-thirty. He was expecting Steve Rogers to come around at four.

The place was already tidy, so Bucky took a quick shower and changed into clean clothes. He fussed with his hair and his glasses for a few moments longer in the mirror than he normally did, unsure of what to expect.

He had dark circles under his eyes that didn't look terribly attractive. Bucky was honestly bewildered why a man as good looking as Rogers would be interested in him anyway.

Maybe it was a power trip, Bucky wondered, his analytic mind turning things over.

He took a bottle of cheap white wine from the refrigerator, already half drunk from the other night, and poured himself a generous glass. He sipped at it and paced his small lounge as he waited.

At four PM exactly, the buzzer went off.

Bucky was expecting Steve but he was still terrified it would be someone else. His buzzer had been going off a lot lately with debt collectors.

When it buzzed again Bucky went over and pressed the intercom. "Yes?" he said, braced for the worst.

"It's Steve," came the familiar deep voice. "Steve Rogers."

Thank God, Bucky thought with relief. Although... technically this guy could be his new debt collector.

Bucky buzzed him in and waited by the door for Steve to arrive. No way he was leaving it off the latch.

Steve knocked softly on the door, which Bucky appreciated, and he unbolted it to let him in.

"Hey." Steve smiled warmly at him.

And, wow. Okay, Steve scrubbed up nicely: not in gym clothes today but a sharp blue button down and black slacks. His hair had been styled back and his beard was neatly groomed. Bucky also caught a hint of a very nice and expensive cologne.

"Everything alright?" Steve asked.

"Um, yeah," Bucky said, quickly shutting the door again and bolting it tight. "Um, do you want a...?" He trailed off as Steve held up a wine bottle with an expensive label. "Drink," he finished with a wry chuckle.

"I figured you'd be a wine drinker," Steve said with a grin. "I couldn't decide red or white, so I picked rosé. Hope that's alright."

"I love rosé," Bucky said, then felt all self conscious standing there clutching his wine glass. "What made you think I drank wine?"

Steve's blue eyes flicked down to Bucky's wine glass, and he chuckled under his breath. "Well, you're smart, you want to be a doctor. So I figured, wine."

Bucky smiled at that. "Only because beer gives me gas," he said. "Otherwise I'd drink more beer."

"Drinking is not a habit I'd recommend," Steve said, amused. "That said, shall we try some of this?"

"Sure." Bucky showed him into the kitchen area, where Steve got to work opening the bottle and pouring out two glasses of wine.

Bucky was more than happy to ditch his cheap wine and try this expensive one. Steve handed him a glass and Bucky took a moment to sniff it, then realised Steve was waiting to toast.

"Sorry," Bucky said, raising his glass in a hurry.

"It's fine," Steve told him, smiling. "To your health."

"Um, and yours," Bucky said, feeling awkward. He followed Steve's lead and drank a sip when he did.

"Got somewhere we can sit?" Steve asked.

Bucky nodded and led the way into his lounge, small as it was. He gestured at the couch, but Steve only smiled and indicated for Bucky to sit first. Bucky detected a power play already and he was proven right when he sat down at the very end of the couch, and when Steve sat right next to him it was a little too close for casual acquaintances, pinning Bucky in place.

Here goes nothing, Bucky thought, and took a large sip of wine. He wasn't sure what was about to happen, but his anxious mind provided him plenty of date rape scenarios.

Oh, shit, should he have checked his wine for drugs? But the bottle had been new, he reminded himself. Shit, Bucky, calm down.

Steve watched him closely, seemingly quite relaxed as he lounged beside Bucky with one arm slung over the back of the couch. "You okay?" he asked. "You seem tense."

"Bit nervous," Bucky admitted. "I've never, um..."

"Never what?" Steve asked.

"Done, um, this," Bucky said. "Borrowing money," he added, cheeks flushing hot. Of course he'd borrowed money before, that's what had gotten him into this mess, what he'd meant was _this_ particular way of borrowing money.

Bucky had a feeling Steve knew exactly what he'd meant.

"Ah." He smiled, like this amused him. "Well, it's pretty simple, Bucky, so don't worry about that. All we have to work out is your repayments."

Bucky nodded fast, half expecting that. "Right."

Steve took a slow sip of wine, still watching Bucky. "Would it help if I told you that nothing's happening tonight, Bucky? We're just going to talk. Maybe order in something to eat, finish off this bottle of wine, then I'll call myself a ride and go home."

Bucky blinked in surprise. "But... but I thought you said you can lend me the money?"

"I can." Steve chuckled. "Try to relax."

Relax, jeez. "Okay," Bucky murmured, feeling anything but relaxed. He drank more wine.

"This is purely so we can get to know each other a little better," Steve went on. "Then I'll know what sort of repayments you can make."

"Oh." Bucky nodded. "Alright. Um, sure. Sorry."

"Stop saying sorry."

"Sorry," Bucky said, then winced. "Um."

"Tell me about where you grew up," Steve interjected. "You said Indiana?"

"Um, yes. That's right."

"Tell me," Steve said, a pleasant smile on his face like he genuinely wanted to know.

Jeez, where to start. "Well..." Bucky drew in a breath, his mind a jumble and filled with thoughts of his mom, his sister and her new baby, and his dad. "There's not much to tell, we're just a regular family..." Aside from his dad's gambling problem, Bucky thought, and the drinking, and the fighting. But maybe that wasn't so unusual.

Before he got lost in his thoughts, Steve probed him a little more, so Bucky ended up telling him about his mom being sad all the time, and his sister getting pregnant and moving back home. Then his dad passing, and all the money problems that had fallen on Bucky's shoulders because his mom was already broke and his sister had a new baby.

It wasn't like Bucky meant to spill, he'd barely told anyone all this. He wished he didn't sound so pathetic explaining it all, ending the tale with Bucky taking out the three loans so his mom and sister would be safe, transferring his dad's debt to himself. Dropping out of college to work dead end temp jobs.

Bucky had finished his wine, didn't notice until he tried to drink from an empty glass. Steve calmly topped it up for him.

"That's a lot of responsibility for someone so young," he said, as Bucky drank a big gulp of wine.

Yeah, didn't he know it.

Steve was quiet, and Bucky risked a glance at him. "I, um, I know it sounds... bad," Bucky said, worried he was failing this interview. "But I am a hard worker and I do intend to pay back what I borrow."

Steve waved his hand, like this wasn't a concern. "I don't doubt your work ethic, Bucky. But wouldn't you rather go back to college?"

Bucky blinked. "Well, yeah, but... I can't afford it now, and I need to take care of my debts first."

"Okay," Steve said gently. "Let's circle back to that. So what made you choose medical school? What made you want to become a shrink?"

Bucky smiled wryly. "I know, it's weird."

"It's not weird." Steve chuckled, a low and throaty sound. "I'm just curious. What made you say that's what I wanna do."

"Um..." Bucky felt his cheeks grow hot, so he drank more wine. He'd never talked about this either, nobody had ever questioned him on it.

"Don't tell me it's just for fun?" Steve teased.

Bucky smiled. "No, I mean... it's dorky, but I think it's fun. I guess I just want to know more about people. I mean, I grew up watching crime dramas and stuff, and they always brought in a psych or a profiler, and those were my favorite bits."

Steve's eyebrows flicked up, and Bucky noticed the change of expression on his face. "Don't tell me you want to work for the cops?" Steve asked, a note of distaste in his voice.

Bucky shook his head quickly. "No way. I mean, I don't know exactly where I'd end up even if I get a degree... at some point. But I figured, helping people, regular people, you know? So a psychiatrist, I guess."

Steve nodded, expression returning to a smile.

Thank God, Bucky thought, and made a mental note to never mention crime or law enforcement stuff ever again in his presence.

"That's nice," Steve said. "You want to help people, help them understand themselves."

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, something like that. But it's... I don't know if that's what I can do now. I'll just have to see what I can afford."

He was proud of himself for holding the conversation, but then Bucky's stomach rumbled so loudly he wanted to cringe. It was probably nerves. That, and not eating all day.

Steve only smiled, and calmly got out his cell phone. "Let's order some food, huh? Do you have any allergies?"

"Um, no allergies," Bucky said, quietly thrilled at the prospect of take-out. He hoped Steve was going to buy it because Bucky sure as hell couldn't afford it.

Steve tapped on his phone, probably using an app. "Got quite a choice in this area. What do you feel like? Maybe pick one that's close by." He turned the phone around and handed it to Bucky.

"I-I don't mind," Bucky tried to say, but Steve gestured for him to pick.

As Bucky scrolled through the take-out options he spotted the Italian restaurant four blocks down, and it reminded Bucky about Steve's comment yesterday about Italians.

Bucky was curious so he said, "This Italian place is good, and close by."

Steve was quiet, so Bucky looked up to assess his reaction. Steve merely shook his head.

"You don't like Italian?" Bucky asked.

A slow smile spread across Steve's face, but he didn't give anything away. "Let's just say it's not my first choice," he replied.

He sounded calm, but Bucky detected a steely note in his voice and suspected if he kept pushing the issue, Steve may get mad at him.

He'd have to dig another time. Bucky's parents had always gotten mad at his constant digging, but Bucky was just naturally curious.

He scrolled some more. "Thai?" he suggested. "Or Chinese?"

"Let's go with Thai," Steve said. "Order what you want, then I'll choose mine."

"Okay." Bucky's eyes stared longingly at the pictures of food on the screen, and he selected a few options. He figured, why not treat himself?

He handed the phone back to Steve, who quickly selected his own options and sent through the order.

"Shouldn't be long," he said. "You like dessert? You can order in dessert too, if you like."

Now he was speaking Bucky's language. "I do like dessert," he admitted.

Steve handed his phone back. "Go ahead. Choose what you want."

"Thank you," Bucky said, giddy with excitement. Dinner and dessert, he felt spoiled already.

Although... he was slightly concerned about multiple take-out orders coming to his door. What if any of the debt collectors use the opportunity to slip into the building?

It was still daylight outside, not even five PM yet, so Bucky didn't have a light on indoors to indicate he was home. But it could get darker while they waited for the food and ate, and if anyone outside saw his lights on...

He must've looked as nervous as he felt, prompting Steve to interrupt his thoughts with a quiet, "Hey. It's fine."

Bucky hoped so. He swallowed down his nerves and ordered a dessert from a fancy cake place he'd never tried but always lusted after on Instagram. He went to hand the phone back to Steve, who waved it away and told Bucky to order more desserts so they had choices.

Like Bucky would say no.

Once all the ordering was done, Bucky returned Steve's phone and they waited for the food. The inquisition seemed to be over, at least for now, as Steve chatted with him about lighter topics. Bucky was grateful for the small talk, as it helped put him at ease.

The Thai order arrived first, and Bucky was a bundle of nerves about it but Steve took care of everything: he went out to meet the delivery driver and came back with the bag of food.

Bucky felt more secure once his door was closed, and the delicious smells distracted him enough that he was able to eat.

Steve was very organised, and made sure Bucky had a plate of food and a full glass of wine, made sure he was happy with it before he even touched his own food.

It was nice, feeling taken care of. Bucky felt charmed by it all, by how nice Steve was being to him. But clearly that was the idea, he supposed, to soften him up. Bucky couldn't help thinking of that movie, Bedazzled, one of his favorites as a kid: when the poor unwitting guy is being courted for a deal to sell his soul, the devil was nice at first, showering him with gifts and charm.

Bucky wondered when the charm part would be over, what contract he'd have to sign.

He ate all of his food anyway. May as well go to hell on a full stomach, he figured.

They ate together on the couch, still making small talk. Steve started asking Bucky about his ties to the Romanovs, how he knew them. It was subtle, woven into the small talk (apparently Steve knew some Sokovians who were distant relatives), but Bucky knew a dig for information when he heard one.

He figured it was okay to talk about Natasha because for one, she was safely back in Moscow and two, she'd been the one to suggest Steve in the first place.

So Bucky explained how they'd met at college, with Nat on a student Visa to study English in New York. They'd become firm friends, and kept in touch after Bucky dropped out of college and later Nat had moved back to Moscow.

Bucky did miss her. He hadn't kept in touch with other college friends, and it was hard to make friends in his current situation.

Steve listened politely, and mentioned Nat's grandfather. Apparently he'd been a world champion boxer in his day, and after that he became a trainer.

"Next time you come down to the gym I'll show you his picture on the wall," Steve said.

Bucky noted the tone of Steve's voice, that he seemed to have admiration and respect for the man. "Did he train you?" Bucky asked, making Steve smile.

"He did," Steve said. "One of the best."

Bucky wanted to ask more, but they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Bucky was instantly alert, his back ramrod straight. "Is it the dessert?" he asked quietly.

Steve frowned, checking his phone. "Could be..." He set his plate down and got up. "I'll go check. You stay here."

"Okay," Bucky breathed, as Steve stalked away.

Bucky couldn't just sit and wait, so he quietly got up and left his food as he crept after Steve to watch. Steve went up to the door and used the peephole.

Oh, Jesus, Bucky thought, please let it be the dessert order.

After a glance in the peephole Steve pulled something shiny out of his pocket, and Bucky didn't understand what it was until Steve fitted it over his right hand.

_Knuckledusters? Oh, shit._

Bucky held his breath, realising this wasn't the dessert order at all. Steve opened the door half way, stepping into the space. From the angle he was at, Bucky couldn't see anything except the door and Steve.

"Yes?" Steve said flatly to whoever was outside.

Bucky was about to faint from nerves, but whoever it was who'd come to the door, maybe they were surprised to see Steve, as it took a few seconds before a quiet, mumbled reply came.

Bucky couldn't quite make it out, but a conversation started. Steve replied, his voice quiet too but clearer. Bucky was able to make out some of it.

"I already spoke to Donnovan," Steve was saying. "If he didn't tell you, that's not my problem. You know who I am, right?"

Bucky touched his hand to his mouth as he listened, biting his lip. He'd spent his childhood hiding around corners listening to his parents fight, and later listening to his dad plead with debtors. This was bringing back all those bad memories, and Bucky felt frozen with fear.

But there were no raised voices now, no sudden eruption of violence.

Strangely, the next thing Steve said in reply was a jovial, "Yeah, I don't mind. But not here, you can come down to my gym."

_What was going on?_

Bucky listened, his ears on stalks, but he couldn't make out the muted conversation in full.

Then Steve said an almost friendly goodbye and closed the door. He took off his metal knuckleduster and pocketed it.

Bucky stepped out from his hiding place. "What did they want?"

"Misunderstanding." Steve waved his hand dismissively. "His phone was out of battery, so he didn't get the message from his boss. Don't worry, he won't come around here again."

Bucky near wilted with relief. "Great," he breathed.

"C'mon," Steve urged, and herded Bucky back to the couch. "Don't let your food get cold."

"What was it you didn't want to do here?" Bucky asked, as they sat down. "You said, go to your gym?"

"Oh, he wanted a selfie with me," Steve said, focused on his phone as he tapped away on it, presumably sending a text.

"A selfie?" Bucky was confused. "Why?"

Steve glanced up with a wry smile. "He's a boxing fan."

"A boxing fan," Bucky repeated, still confused. He'd definitely be Googling Steve later.

"That's right," Steve said, finished with his phone now. "When you come down the gym again I can give you the tour. There's a few of my old fights on the walls."

"Oh." Bucky understood now. "Sorry. I'm pretty clueless when it comes to sports."

"Never boxed?" Steve asked, as Bucky laughed and almost choked on his rice.

He cleared his throat. "Definitely not. Can't you tell I'm a nerd?"

Steve only smiled at him. "C'mon, finish your dinner. Sorry about the interruption."

"They won't come back, will they?" Bucky asked. He could just picture Steve leaving and the collectors returning when he wasn't there to charm them.

"No, he got the message," Steve said. "Don't worry, this will all go away soon."

Bucky really hoped so. He was so anxious, but Steve insisted he ate his food. Bucky ate as much as he could manage. When the buzzer went again, Bucky jumped with a start.

"It's alright," Steve told him, clasping a big hand onto Bucky's shoulder. "It's probably the dessert." He got up and went to the intercom, and it must've been the order as Steve buzzed whoever it was into the building. And he didn't put his knuckleduster on to open the door this time.

"See?" Steve came back with bags of dessert. "Nothing to worry about."

Bucky let out a heavy sigh. "Sorry, it's... it's just been stressful."

Steve put the dessert bags on the coffee table, and sat down next to Bucky. "Don't apologise, Bucky," he said gently. "Look, once this is all settled, you'll feel a lot better, okay?"

Bucky nodded, though his mind was whirling with new worries and new risks.

Steve was quiet a moment, then he said, "Okay, listen, have a couple days to unwind. No one's going to bother you. Then, on Sunday, why don't you come down to the gym again, and we can talk? We won't get disturbed there." He smiled kindly at Bucky. "Does that sound alright?"

Bucky nodded again. "Okay. What time?"

"Any time," Steve said easily. "I'm there all day from six. I'll be training in the morning but I can take a break whenever."

Bucky was curious to know what training meant. Boxing? Something else? He didn't ask, he just nodded again. "Okay. Thanks."

"No problem." Steve sat his hand on Bucky's shoulder again, a reassuring touch. It was brief, but Bucky appreciated it. "Now, what d'ya say we eat some cake?"

Bucky smiled. "Yes, please."

Steve only stayed another hour, trying some of the desserts with Bucky then helping him clear the plates, and pack the uneaten food into Bucky's refrigerator.

Bucky's bare kitchen had never known such rich bounty.

Before he left, Steve had Bucky enter his cell number into his phone, and told Bucky if he had any problems or unexpected visitors to call him and he'd sort it out. Bucky still wasn't a hundred per cent sure he could trust Steve, but at least it was something.

Steve ordered himself a cab and left pretty quickly, clearly not one for long goodbyes. Bucky was alone in his apartment again, and as it was getting dark he went to switch off his light out of habit...

Then he decided to keep it on, and test if Steve was telling the truth. Either the collectors would return tonight, or tomorrow, or they wouldn't. Bucky hadn't had his lights on at night for weeks now, probably months. He'd lost count. It would make a nice change to not sit cowering in the dark.

He went and got a cake from the kitchen and took it over to the couch to eat. Bucky spooned chocolate cake into his mouth, sitting in the same spot he'd sat in earlier, staring into space. He played things over in his mind, trying to remember everything Steve had told him, but mostly Bucky's mind kept replaying the sound of Steve's laugh, or the curve of his mouth when he smiled, and the different flecks of color in his beard.

Bucky still had a hundred unanswered questions, but maybe he'd know more by Sunday. Presuming no other collectors got to him before then.

A little later, cake demolished, Bucky ended up on his phone and chatting with Natasha.

He tried to avoid the subject of Steve, but Nat was nothing if not nosy. She asked him how his meeting went, if his debts were now covered.

Bucky was, admittedly, still a little unclear on that front. That was down to Steve being vague. He replied to Nat and said he thought so, and he had another meeting with Steve on Sunday to discuss repayments.

Nat replied with winking emojis and a thumbs up. _Just make sure you bat your eyelashes at him,_ she wrote. _Maybe wear contacts, not your glasses._

Bucky made a face at his phone screen, and adjusted his glasses defensively. Rude, Natasha.

On a whim, he removed his glasses and turned on his camera. Flipping the screen, Bucky filmed himself fluttering his eyelashes, then put his glasses back on and sent the video to Natasha.

She replied with laughing emojis, and Bucky found himself smiling too. A small part of him wanted to send the same video to Steve, just to see how he'd react, but as curious as Bucky was, he wasn't that brave.

Not tonight, anyway. He'd just have to wait until Sunday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note about the Italians bit if you weren't already aware: it's just a reference to the historical fact that the New York Irish and Italian mob families didn't tend to get along very well.
> 
> I can't wait to share the next chapter and introduce some characters at Steve's gym! :D


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Dready and A for your help! ❤
> 
> ~~~

It was amazing the difference a couple of days made, Bucky thought, as he lazed in his bed on Saturday morning.

Yesterday he'd still been looking over his shoulder out of habit, jumping at every noise and expecting to see a collector coming for him. But he'd gotten no new letters, no cards under his door, and there'd been no calls to his cell or his office. Bucky had gone home, had another evening in with the lights on and feeling like a king just for that small luxury alone.

Plus, he'd had all that take-out food left over, and that was real treat to enjoy. Two days of good food and nobody hassling him, and Bucky slept harder last night than he had in _months_.

And now he had an entire Saturday to himself, he was still in bed and he didn't want to get out.

Steve texted him at midday, checking if everything was alright. Bucky was still in bed when he got the message, just dozing and enjoying the peace. He replied that everything was cool.

Steve wanted to know if Bucky was still coming down to his gym tomorrow, and Bucky supposed he ought to. He replied yes, and Steve didn't reply again.

Bucky scrolled through his social media feeds for a while, liking Natasha's pictures on Instagram, and some of his sister's never-ending baby pictures on Facebook.

Bucky hadn't had a lot of time to really enjoy being online lately, aside from anxiety scrolling; it was nice to browse in peace.

Nat ended up messaging him in the afternoon, once Bucky had finally dragged himself out of bed and onto his couch. She wanted to know what he planned to wear for Sunday, and after messaging back and forth a while she video called him and demanded to see his wardrobe choices.

Bucky missed Nat. They used to do clothes shopping for her in thrift stores. She had always tried to get him to try on silly shirts or tops, and Bucky had usually gone along with it because messing about with his friend was fun.

Picking an outfit for a sort of date slash business meeting? Not so much.

Bucky walked his phone into his bedroom and threw a few outfit choices onto his bed. Natasha scoffed at them, grumbling in Russian.

"What's wrong with these!" Bucky said, voice a bit shrill.

Seriously, he was starting to feel nervous.

"Don't wear a t-shirt," Nat replied, rolling her eyes onscreen. "Wear a shirt, it's sexier. And don't do the buttons all the way up, leave a couple undone."

Bucky's anxious mind flitted off to sordid places immediately: like him going into Steve's office and Steve bending him over his desk right then and there.

Jesus, he wouldn't, would he?

The worry must've shown on his face, as Natasha snort-laughed and asked him what was wrong.

Bucky shrugged and avoided the question, but Nat asked again, so he admitted, with a bit of whine to his voice, "I don't wanna look sexy, Natasha. It's supposed to be a business meeting."

Nat stared at her phone screen so long, Bucky thought the connection had timed out.

"Nat?" he said, right before she threw her head back and laughed.

Or, cackled, was probably more accurate.

"Hold on," she said, grabbing something offscreen. Bucky pursed his lips, waiting as she put on a pair of tinted sunglasses then pouted at the screen.

"But I don't wanna look _sexy!_ " she said in a whiny voice, and puckered her lips at him. "I don't want any attention from men! Boo, hoo, hoo!"

Bucky started laughing, especially when Nat bit her lip and made sad faces, trying to imitate him. "Fuck you, Natasha," he said. "I sound nothing like that."

"You fucking do!" Nat replied, pushing the glasses up onto her head. " _Bohze_ _moi_ , you should hear yourself. You do realise that men expect sexiness _and more_ from women every minute of every fucking day, right? I get told shit like this every single day of my life and it's so normalized nobody realises."

"Yes, I know." Bucky sighed. "You're right. I'm not saying otherwise, Nat. Jesus. I just... I don't know, I don't want to give this guy the wrong impression and have him assume he can do whatever. He already sat pretty close to me the other day."

Natasha raised her eyebrows at him. "He sat close to you? Oh, God, somebody call the cops. Bucky, you're really uptight. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Bucky rubbed a hand down his face. "Yes, everyone. All the time. What's your point?"

"My point is," Nat said, "you're supposed to use those good looks you've been blessed with to your advantage. I'm not telling you to jump in bed with the guy, but it doesn't hurt to give him something to look at. You'd be surprised how helpful it can be when you want something."

"Hmmm," Bucky replied, unconvinced. He was terrible at flirting, and this all felt like running before he could walk, especially under the circumstances.

But Bucky wasn't a fool either.

"I hear you," he said. "I'll wear a shirt. I guess it is a business meeting, I should wear a shirt. But I'm not going in unbuttoned or anything, that's just not me."

Nat grumbled in Russian again. "Fine," she said in English. "At least let me pick the shirt."

"Oh, yeah," Bucky laughed, glancing at his shirts on the bed, "because they're not all exactly the same."

"I think you should go with a blue one," Nat said.

Bucky wasn't going to argue. "Alright," he agreed. "Blue it is."

Saturday night, Bucky found it hard to sleep as he was so nervous.

He did eventually get a few hours in the early morning, but once he was awake around seven, he was too anxious to fall back asleep.

Steve had said he'd be at his gym from six, so...

Bucky got himself up, had a shower and fixed his hair. He wore his glasses (sorry, Nat), and put on his pre selected outfit: blue shirt, his nicest jeans. He had deliberated on wearing slacks, but all Bucky had was his cheap office ones and he was really sick of wearing polyester all day.

The shirt made it smart. This was okay, he thought, looking at himself in the mirror. God, he hoped it was okay.

He left his bag at home today, just grabbing a jacket. Then he took himself outside, still a bit jumpy but the coast was clear of anyone looking like they were about to jump him, and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief.

He'd have to take a couple of buses, so while Bucky was waiting for his first one he got his phone out and opened his browser.

Somehow he had completely forgotten to Google Steve like he'd meant to, but Bucky's brain had been so wired lately it was amazing he remembered anything right now.

He had a few minutes to kill, so he looked around online. Steve was supposed to be some famous boxer, but Bucky didn't find anything on YouTube. Maybe he was searching the wrong name? Steve hadn't said he used a different name.

Bucky did find some pictures on Google, though: stills from boxing matches, from the looks of it. During fights and after fights. Some that looked like training: Steve with other guys in gloves, and Steve with a large punch bag and his hands taped up.

And, well, _damn_ , Bucky thought, looking at images of a clearly much younger Steve. He'd had shorter hair back then, no beard either. Still built like a brick shithouse, and covered in sweat in some pictures.

Bucky was so busy staring at Steve's photos with his glistening, sweat-shiny skin, that he almost missed his bus.

It shouldn't be so surprising, Bucky thought, as he sat on the bus and opened Google again. Steve was a handsome guy now, obviously he would've been handsome when he was younger. It was kind of exciting to see his photos, too: like Bucky had more control over how he could look at Steve, drink his image in without worrying about Steve seeing him.

During his examinations and zooming in on the photos, Bucky noticed Steve's nose was a little bumpy, like it'd been broken a couple times. Bucky's dad had had the exact same nose later in life.

Not that Bucky cared, it was just something he noticed.

It was a fairly long bus ride. Bucky browsed some more, and saved a couple photos so he could study them offline. He tried to figure out how old Steve was in the photos, when his fights would've been going on. Surely YouTube was around then?

Or maybe there was a special website he should be looking at, not YouTube. Bucky wondered how he could probe this without looking too thirsty to Steve.

He got his connecting bus, gazing out the window now with his knee bouncing as he got closer to the gym.

Steve being handsome and generally polite was one thing, but Bucky really didn't know him from Adam, and that was what made him nervous. Bucky found it hard to trust anyone, and now he was expected to put his entire financial situation in the hands of some man he barely knew, a boxer and loan shark, basically.

It was a little stressful. He knew he didn't have much choice, but it was still stressful.

Bucky got off at his stop and walked down to the gym. It was past ten AM and a warm day, so he carried his jacket in hand.

Here we go, he thought to himself as he approached the building. At least he'd been in there once, so Bucky sort of knew what to expect. He walked in and the same bored looking dude was at the front desk as before. He barely even glanced up as Bucky went in, walking down the little hallway with all the posters and pictures on the walls.

The sounds of the gym up ahead greeted him first: the usual shouting and thumps and smacks of gloves on pads. Bucky wasn't so jumpy this time when he heard the fighting. They were just training after all.

He stepped into the gym itself, noting that it was a lot busier than the last time he'd been here: loads of guys either fighting in the rings, yelling from the sidelines, or training with punching bags.

The air con was on but the smell of sweat still lingered in the air. Bucky didn't mind that so much, it was just that the whole atmosphere was a lot to walk into when he wasn't used to it. He supposed this should've been the gay nerd's dream, being the voyeur in a gym.

Like, all his life he'd gazed at jocks and day-dreamed about them, especially in high school.

But actually being in the gym now, and alone, it was intimidating on many levels.

Thankfully he spotted Steve over by the ring on the right, so Bucky headed over there. He was careful not to walk on the mats and kept to the bare floor areas.

Steve wasn't in the ring himself but on the outside corner, watching the two guys inside the ring in gloves and pads, circling each other. Steve seemed busy shouting instructions at them, using terms that were new to Bucky.

"Get those hands up!" Steve shouted, his deep voice carrying easily. "Jab, jab, set it up! _Rotate it!_ Good, now circle out."

Bucky didn't want to interrupt, so he waited a short distance away and took in the scene. He enjoyed absorbing details about places and people, tried to guess the stories there. So far all he saw were white guys in the gym of varying ages. The two guys Steve was shouting at seemed young, one had more pads on than the other so Bucky suspected the focus was on training one guy.

Steve himself was dressed in sports clothes: shorts today, and an Under Armor top. His arms looked spectacular, they really did. He had a small white towel in his hand, and Bucky wondered if he'd missed Steve training or doing something that caused sweat.

He should've gotten here earlier, dammit.

There was another guy watching the fight, standing near Steve. White guy, maybe the same age as Steve, brown hair and sort of regular looking but conventionally cute. He noticed Bucky first, and said something quietly to Steve.

Steve looked around, saw Bucky and broke into a smile. He turned back to the guy next to him. "Hey, man, I got a meeting."

"No problem," he replied, as they shook hands in a very macho _Bro_ way. "I got this."

Oh, boy, Bucky thought, watching as Steve slapped this guy on the shoulder in a friendly manner. He'd never been that kind of guy, the slapping another guy or doing cool bro handshakes kind of guy. Bucky had always figured they teach that shit in high school and they'd missed Bucky out because he was too gay.

"Hey," Steve said, walking up to him with a smile. "Great, you're here."

Bucky did his best to smile a regular smile, not a nervous smile. "I'm here," he replied, his heart starting to race. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Nah, we do this every day." Steve waved a hand like it was nothing. "Scott will take care of it. So, you want the tour first? Or do you wanna go in my office?"

Bucky was way too nervous to be alone with Steve, so he asked for the tour and hoped Steve didn't think he was stalling.

Steve seemed happy to give him the tour, though. They started in the main room and Steve took him around pointing the guys out and what fights they'd won recently. Bucky was so nervous he didn't retain a lot of information about the other people, but once Steve directed him to one of the walls and started showing him the photos of championship fights, Bucky focused on those instead.

There were a lot of pictures, lots of pale white guys at first glance.

"Is everyone Irish?" Bucky asked, too curious for his own good.

Steve chuckled at that. "Nah, not anymore. We, uh, started expanding when I took over running this place."

"Are you Irish?" Bucky asked.

"My grandparents are." Steve smiled at him. "My mom's from Brooklyn where I grew up, and my dad's from Boston."

"You're from Brooklyn?"

"Yeah, it's changed a lot, though." Steve pointed out another photo of a white guy in the ring. "This guy, Matt. Great kid. They call him Daredevil. Still comes down for training, he only lives around the corner. And this guy, Sam..." He pointed to a photo of a young black man, fists raised in victory. "Great fighter, our current reigning champ. He's from up in Harlem."

"And where are your pictures?" Bucky teased.

"Oh, on another wall." Steve chuckled. "We have a new wall and an old wall. Guess which wall I'm on." He gestured for Bucky to follow as he led the way. "That's Wanda's office," he said, as they passed by a smaller office with its blinds half open. Bucky glanced at the windows, saw a young woman with red hair sitting at the desk, talking on the phone. "She's great. Sokovian, and her brother just started training with us too."

Steve led him around the outside of the gym, and the far wall leading to Steve's own office had tons of photos and framed belts: those big leather ones with gold embossed fronts. Bucky couldn't believe he'd missed this last time, but there was Steve, right up there on the wall.

"It's all you?" Bucky said, impressed. There were snapshots from Steve fighting in the ring, shirtless and sweaty. Shots of him having won a fight, face bloody and his gloved hands pumping the air in victory. "You must've won a lot," Bucky mused, glancing at Steve to gauge his reaction.

Steve smiled, seeming calm and perhaps a little humble. "A few," he said. "But the glory days are long behind me now."

"It must be a dangerous sport," Bucky said, without thinking.

"Yeah, it's very dangerous," Steve replied. "I've known guys who lost their lives from injuries. Matt lost his sight, couldn't fight after that but he still comes down here to train."

Bucky felt like he'd put his foot in it. "I'm sorry," he said, but Steve only shrugged.

"It's the nature of the game," he said. "Hey, do you want a drink or anything? I got some water or energy drinks in my office."

"Um..." Bucky swallowed, his throat feeling dry. "Water would be great."

"Alright." Steve set a heavy hand on Bucky's shoulder, herding him along to the office.

Guess now it's time to do business, Bucky thought.

He'd been in Steve's office before, but this time Bucky took the time to look around. There were framed photos in here too: a younger Steve post-fight, grinning at the camera with a gum shield in his mouth, and wearing a winning belt around his waist. There were trophies too, some small ones and some really tall ones that looked like shiny metal wedding cakes with a lot of layers.

"Here." Steve handed him a cold bottle of mineral water, and Bucky took it gratefully. "Grab a seat," Steve told him, so Bucky sat down.

Steve was about to sit on the edge of his desk, then made a detour to his office door to open it. Bucky turned around when he heard a woman's soft voice: it was the redhead from the other office, Wanda. She spoke quietly to Steve, an accent to her voice, and handed him a folded piece of paper.

"Okay, thanks," he told her, glancing at the paper before folding it up again. "I'll tell them."

Wanda left, and Steve shut his door before walking around his desk. He sighed lightly as he opened up a drawer.

Bucky was curious, but he wasn't about to go asking what was happening. Probably just regular business stuff.

"Sorry, Bucky," Steve told him, still rummaging in his drawer. "My, uh, associate is running late so he might drop in during our meeting."

"Okay," Bucky said. Like he was going to complain?

"It's been one of those days." Steve chuckled, finding an envelope he wanted and sitting down in his chair. "I tell those jerks to be here at nine," he said, slipping the note inside the envelope, "and they're over an hour late because it's Sunday. Probably stopped to get a Starbucks or something."

Bucky nodded along, not sure what to say to that. Steve seemed very reasonable, but Bucky remembered that knuckleduster from the other night. He wondered if Steve had a temper, or if he lost it often. It's what Bucky had grown up with in his family: hot tempers. Wouldn't it track that a boxer would have a temper too? He wasn't sure, but unknown factors made him nervous.

He hoped Steve wasn't like that.

"While we're waiting," Steve said casually, leaning back in his chair, "we didn't get to talk much the other night."

Bucky nodded again, figuring this would lead into repayments talk.

"You haven't had anyone else bother you, right?" Steve asked. Bucky shook his head. "Good. Alright, so like I said, I've taken on your debts. Forget about those other people, you just deal with me from now on. Understood?"

"Yessir," Bucky replied, the nerves getting to him.

Steve smiled at him. "Okay, so, with that taken care of, it's just a matter of you and me working out your repayment plan. Did you wanna pay weekly, monthly? What?"

"Um, at the moment I get paid bi-monthly," Bucky explained. "I'm a temp, so I change jobs when they need me."

"Sure," Steve said easily. "Well, it doesn't matter to me, as long as you don't miss a payment."

Bucky nodded. "I won't."

"You have an idea what your budget is?" Steve asked.

"Um, yes?"

"Okay." Steve took out a notepad and pen, sliding them across the desk to Bucky. "Write down your budget, what you think you can afford to repay and still live on. Okay?"

"Um, sure."

This hadn't been what Bucky'd expected, but it seemed reasonable so far. He took the pad and wrote down his figures, feeling embarrassed at how pathetic his existence was and how little he earned temping.

If he moved further out or lived with room-mates again, he could probably save a little money on bills. Bucky's last room-mate had left a month ago, fed up with the constant harassment from those collectors.

Right now, all Bucky could afford to repay was around one hundred dollars a month. Anything else and he wouldn't be able to afford food or bills.

He wrote the figure down, and pushed the pad back to Steve. Bucky felt his cheeks flushing, and he picked up his water bottle again because it was cold in his hands and helped cool him down.

Steve looked at the notepad, eyeing it carefully. "Can you really afford a hundred a month?" he asked. "Wouldn't something like fifty dollars be a little easier on you?"

Bucky shrugged. "Yeah, I guess, but..."

"You gotta live, Bucky," Steve cut in. "If you're fine with fifty, you can pay fifty a month or twenty-five every two weeks. And it has to be cash, alright?"

"Um, yes, that's fine," Bucky said.

Was Steve really going to let him pay back so little a month? Bucky never would've dreamed to be this lucky.

Unless...

"Um, Steve? Will there be, um... interest?"

Steve smiled at him. "There will be a little interest, yeah. Depends which deal you go for, Bucky."

Bucky didn't understand what that meant, and adjusted his glasses. "What do you mean?"

"I have two contracts here in my desk drawer," Steve said, casual as anything. "One's more of a standard loan contract, but don't worry I gave you a good deal on the interest. Don't want old man Romanov coming after me."

Bucky smiled at that.

Well, a low interest loan was what he'd hoped for. This was good news.

"What's the other contract?" he asked, curious.

"That one's a little less standard." Steve's smile turned into a smirk, with a certain twinkle in his eye. "But really it depends on you, because you choose which contract to sign."

"Do I get to read them first?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah." Steve got up from his chair and slowly walked around the desk. "But there's no point showing you the special contract unless you're interested."

"Oh..." Bucky looked up at Steve, watching him warily as he sat on the edge of the desk. Just like their first meeting. "So... what's the special contract?"

Steve smiled down at him. "Do you know what sugaring is, Bucky?"

_Sugaring?_

Bucky's mind blanked.

No, he didn't know _exactly_ , but from the sound of it he had a vague idea.

"You mind explaining it to me?" Bucky asked, wanting to be sure.

Steve chuckled warmly. "It's just a term. Basically it means being nice to someone in exchange for money and gifts. You go on dates with them, spend time with them. That sort of thing."

Bucky's mind split off in two wild directions at once, providing him images of Steve taking him out to dinner at a fancy restaurant, wining and dining him, giving him expensive gifts.

And the other image was an angry Steve demanding sex from him, and Bucky being way to nervous to put out and making Steve more mad.

Jesus, he wished his imagination wasn't so vivid.

"Um," Bucky said, trying to get a handle on the situation, "so... would I get a say in what happens, or not? I mean, I don't really know what you're expecting from me?"

"Relax, Bucky," Steve told him. "I'm not going to force you into anything. I'm a reasonable guy. Did you like having dinner with me the other night? Minus that interruption, of course."

Bucky found himself nodding. Yes, he had kind of liked eating with Steve, and talking to him. "But... we didn't do anything?"

Steve's lips quirked like he was fighting a grin. "You seemed kind of nervous, Bucky."

"I was." Bucky smiled bashfully. "I didn't know what to expect."

"Well, I'm happy to take things slow," Steve said. "Get to know each other a bit more. Have some more dinners, hang out and watch a movie or things like that. Does that sound okay?"

Bucky nodded, though he was biting his lip. What if Steve hated him, he wondered. What if Bucky was terrible at everything and Steve got mad?

"Have you dated before?" Steve asked gently.

Now Bucky felt like a dork with no experience at life. "Um..." he stalled.

Steve didn't press him on it. "Okay," he said. "Look, Bucky, you don't have to sign that contract, you can sign the regular contract. It's not a problem."

Bucky dared to look up at Steve, checking his face to see if he was mad. Steve seemed calm, watching Bucky as he smiled again.

"I'm only offering you options," Steve told him.

Bucky nodded. Either way, he was probably going to be in debt to this man for many, many years. Paying off a smidge of money per month would barely make a dent in the thousands Bucky owed. He'd be stuck in temp work, hoping a company would take him on permanently so he could sit in their office for the rest of his life paying off his debts.

And probably never go back to medical school.

On a whim, Bucky asked, "When you said gifts... what sort of gifts do you mean?"

Steve smiled at him. "Well, that really depends on how things go. I do like buying gifts, though."

Bucky's wild imagination ran away again, picturing all manner of gifts from nice clothes to a new laptop, or a vacation. Bucky could really use a vacation.

Screw it, he thought. He was young, and he was wasting his life right now. Time to grab onto this opportunity with both hands, try it out.

"Okay," he said, his heart in his throat. "I'll sign."

Steve's dark brows flicked up in surprise. "Yeah?"

Bucky nodded. "Yes. But, like, if you decide you hate me or whatever, will you put me onto the regular contract instead?"

Steve broke into a laugh. "Sure, kid." He reached a hand out, brushing his fingers under Bucky's chin to tilt his face up. "Stop worrying so much, you'll get wrinkles early."

Bucky was so surprised at the contact, brief as it was before Steve got up and went around his desk, he stayed perfectly still and didn't dare move.

Nobody had touched Bucky in quite some time, and it was just a surprise, especially such a gentle touch.

Steve opened up a drawer in his desk then set two manilla envelopes in front of Bucky. "This is the regular contract." Steve pointed to the one on the right. "I'm going to leave you in here to read them, okay? You can sign whichever one you want and leave it on my desk. The pink copy is yours to take. No pressure. Alright?"

Bucky looked from the two envelopes up to Steve. "Um, okay. Thanks."

"Great." Steve laid a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Take your time, okay? I'm going back to the ring. Just wave at me when you're leaving, and I'll give you a call tomorrow to check in."

Bucky felt a bit of relief over that. "Yeah, alright. Thanks, Steve."

"No worries, kid." Steve patted his shoulder gently before walking off. "Stop worrying. It's all gonna be fine." He went to his office door and opened it, something drawing his attention outside.

Steve stepped outside and shut the door. The blinds on all the windows were open enough for Bucky to see, and he watched as two white guys approached Steve. They looked interesting, so Bucky twisted around in his seat to watch. One guy was clearly about Steve's age, with short sandy blond hair. He had purple bruises on one eye, and a band-aid over his nose. He wasn't dressed for the gym, wearing a white undershirt and a garish printed shirt on top.

The younger guy with him was in a long sleeved blue Henley, his hair a mess of silver curls. This one had a lot of energy, bouncing on his toes and holding his fists up with a grin as they approached Steve.

"What time do you call this?" Steve said, his deep voice carrying through the thin office door.

The older guy spread his hands with a smile. "We're here. You got a list for us?"

"Yeah," Steve said, turning back to the office. He opened the door again, and Bucky whirled around in his seat trying to seem like he hadn't been eavesdropping.

"Sorry, Bucky," Steve said, sounding calm. He kicked his door shut behind him as he went to his desk. "I forgot to take this..." He grabbed the smaller envelope from earlier. "Now I'll leave you in peace."

"It's fine," Bucky said, watching Steve leave again.

This was intriguing. Bucky watched the men outside once Steve had shut the door: he gave them the envelope, and the older guy (Clint, Steve called him) opened it up to look at it.

"Am I getting double time for this many?" Clint complained.

"How about next week I'll put your name on there?" Steve retorted. "You can punch your own lights out."

They seemed to be bantering, and the younger guy was still bouncing around nearby, like he'd had too much caffeine and was raring to go.

"You're already late," Steve told them before walking off into the gym.

"Right, boss." Clint pocketed the paper.

Bucky thought they'd leave, but then Clint opened the office door. He didn't seem all that surprised to see Bucky sat there, and grinned in a friendly manner.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said, going to a small cabinet right by the door. "Just gotta get something from the ol' whammy drawer." He laughed a dirty laugh as he rummaged around, grabbing what looked like a brown leather baton, and a pair of shiny metal knuckledusters.

Then Clint was out the door, pocketing the weapons as he and the other guy strolled off, chatting between themselves.

Bucky turned back to his contracts on the desk as his mind turned that over. He figured that Clint, whoever he was, was headed out to do collections for Steve. The guy did do loans after all.

"Jesus," Bucky murmured to himself, and opened up his envelopes. He just had to sign one of these, and get out of here.

He laid the contracts out in front of him, short at only one page each, and started to go through them line by line, checking the differences.

It was pretty much as Steve had told him: one contract seemed standard, adding interest to his total amount owed. The other contract...

Well, that one had a sentence about open negotiations for reduced payments in return for services rendered.

A fancy way of saying _sugaring_ , Bucky supposed. He also supposed he couldn't really ask a lawyer about this... not that Bucky could afford a lawyer anyway.

Well, what choice did he have here? He needed this loan, and he had to pick a contract. Pick a repayment, pick a lifestyle.

Bucky signed the special contract, the sugaring one, which already had Steve's signature on it. Bucky ripped off the bottom sheet of paper, his copy. It was bright pink. He folded it and slipped it in his pocket. Then he slid the main contact back into its envelope and left it on Steve's desk.

Bucky had a brief moment of panic as he was about to leave Steve's office, but he talked himself down. He took a deep breath, held his head high and walked out.

On his way past the ring, he saw Steve with the boxers, watching them spar. Steve looked over at him and Bucky waved awkwardly.

Steve gave him a small smile and a nod, then turned his attention back to the ring.

Bucky was fine with that, he didn't want to announce to the world what he was getting into here. He left them to their boxing, and exited the gym as calmly as he could.

Once outside in the sunshine, he let it finally sink in that all he had to pay each month was _fifty dollars_ , which meant he'd have spare cash for food now. Thank God.

Bucky tried to keep that in mind as he made his way home. Now all he had to do was wait for Steve to call him, and see what happened next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, are you excited? nervous? :D what do you suppose will happen next?
> 
> btw i want to invite you all to see [this hilarious movie poster](https://jro616.tumblr.com/post/625098499314368513/the-best-movie-poster-ive-ever-seen-is-this-gem) from 1952, about a loan shark. It just made me lol.
> 
> "the whammy drawer" is a line from Gotham than makes me lol too, so i had to slip it in. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed all the Team Cap cameos. Team Cap forever!!


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky does some research

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a friendly note to a couple readers recently, if all you're going to comment is "update this" without even a thank you for the free story, I'm asking that you subscribe to the fic via ao3 and wait for updates in your email. That way you don't have to comment "update this" and I don't have to read it. Win win! 
> 
> To all my regulars who always thank me for writing and tell me what they enjoy about the story, I love you and appreciate you ❤🙏🙏 
> 
> ~~
> 
> Thank you Dready for beta help!
> 
> ~~

_SO??!!?_

Natasha had texted Bucky in all capitals and multiple exclamation points.

It was Monday morning and he was on his way to work, whereas for Natasha in Russia it was the middle of the afternoon.

Bucky didn't particularly want to get into it with her right now, recounting his meeting with Steve yesterday. Terms like _sugaring_ and _services rendered_ kept floating around in his mind, and Bucky had already decided not to tell Nat the whole truth about his new contract.

For all he knew, Bucky would flake out and ask Steve to switch him over to a regular contract, no sugaring involved. If that happened he didn't want Nat asking a million questions or teasing him for being uptight.

Bucky didn't expect her to really tease him if he was upset about it, she wasn't mean or anything; he just couldn't help picture every worst case scenario because that was how he was. He'd grown up risk assessing every situation and his brain was now hard wired to do it without a second thought.

So, for a little breathing room, Bucky was going to keep the details to himself until he knew for sure what was really happening.

That seemed reasonable to him.

He yawned as the bus trundled along the street, and he started typing back a text. _At work,_ he wrote. _Meeting was fine. I'm signed on for low interest payments. I can afford to eat now, yay._

He added a few smiling emojis so she wouldn't worry, then sent the text. Bucky switched his phone to silent and put it away in his bag.

He just needed to think.

Or, actually, the opposite of that: he needed to distract himself from thinking, from worrying, and do an easy task for a few hours to give his anxiety a rest.

Hopefully his supervisor would have enough work to keep him occupied.

Clearly it wasn't Bucky's day, as when he got into the office his supervisor seemed surprised to see him and mentioned that he'd already told the temping agency that Bucky's position had been assigned full time as of today.

To somebody else, of course. Not to Bucky.

A great start to his Monday.

Bucky was polite about it (too shocked to do otherwise, really) and went back outside, and stood on the street for a moment.

The bustle of people walking past on the side-walk and the traffic hooting in the street made Bucky space out, dazed and tired. He hadn't slept all that great, anxious from seeing Steve, and now he'd gotten up early and bussed uptown for no reason.

Bucky sighed quietly and got out his phone. He had to ignore the multiple messages from Nat, and one from his sister, while he called his agency. Bucky couldn't get through to them at first, and he figured he should go find somewhere to sit down so he could write them an email and try to get their attention.

Otherwise they may forget about him.

Bucky found himself a coffee shop down the block that had some seats available. He nearly fainted at the price of a latte, but then remembered he wasn't as broke now.

Thank God.

Bucky's eyes drifted over to the pastries as his stomach rumbled. Well, he thought, since he was here...

He got himself a plain croissant (the cheapest option) with his latte, and went to have his meal fit for a king at a table in the corner.

It was nice, he supposed, having a bit of leisure time in public. Something he hadn't done lately, for fear of being approached by debt collectors. In fact, Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd sat in a coffee shop.

He signed into the Wi-Fi and emailed his agency. He also signed up to another agency after a quick Google, because he was getting annoyed with this one. He was a dedicated worker, but none of his jobs so far had wanted to hire him full time.

Bucky took a bite of pastry and exhaled as he chewed. He didn't even want to work full time, he wanted to finish college.

Maybe, he thought, he could borrow more money from Steve?

And then what? Be indebted even more? Bucky still didn't know what was expected from him for the debt Steve had just taken off his hands, and this special contract. His time, surely, would be expected. But how would that be spent? With physical labour or emotional labour, or both?

Oh, he could Google it, Bucky realised.

He opened a new tab and Googled _sugaring_.

 _Sugaring_ , he read, or _sugar waxing is a Persian waxing method..._

Wait, no. Bucky frowned, scrolling down all the hair removal results. That can't be right.

He broke into a smile imagining Steve wanting to wax. Wouldn't that be a riot? The sort of plot a rom com movie would have: Steve asking Bucky to do some sugaring and Bucky presumed he meant sex, while Steve meant hair removal.

Bucky lost his smile and stared into the middle distance. Surely he hadn't misunderstood Steve's intentions? Bucky was aware he wasn't worldly but he wasn't that naïve.

Dammit, this was the sort of thing he'd tell Natasha about and they'd have a good laugh.

Bucky went back to his phone and scrolled on.

Urban Dictionary told him that _sugaring_ meant a juvenile prank, involving covering a person's car or front porch in syrup, honey and sugar.

Bucky shook his head. Who would even do that?

"Okay," he muttered, and got rid of the tab. Time to start again. If sugaring wasn't that well known a term, at least to Google, he'd have to use something else.

Sugar daddy?

But that was so broad, even Bucky understood that a sugar daddy would obviously be someone of means giving out gifts to someone else. What Bucky wanted to know was what did the giftee do in return. Was there a guide?

God, he hoped there was a guide.

"Google, don't fail me now," he murmured, and typed in _sugar baby guide_. He hit search, and thankfully these new results seemed more on point.

The first result was from Business Insider, no less.

Bucky felt himself pulling a face of surprise at that. _Professional 'sugar babies',_ the headline said, _share what it's really like to get paid to hang out with rich guys!_

Bucky clicked on it and his eyebrows flicked up in surprise at what he saw, including statistical claims that sugar babies could earn around five hundred dollars per date, two thousand dollars or more per month, and that they were given gifts on top of that.

_Two thousand dollars a month!_

Bucky stared into space for a moment, imagining all the things he could do with two grand a month.Then he read on and the same stats claimed that the average sugar daddy was earning close to forty thousand dollars a year.

Also the article said there was a sugar baby summit (Bucky read that three times to make sure he'd read it right) in Los Angeles.

Bucky frowned to himself.

Some differences about the typical sugar baby seemed to be obvious from the start. Firstly, this article seemed to be presenting the sugar babies as young women, and all sugar daddies as business men.

Well, Bucky's situation wasn't like that. He was a broke college kid, he didn't hang around hotels or penthouses in expensive clothes sipping champagne, and Steve wasn't an executive in a suit.

Clearly, Bucky would need to do a ton of research to find an example more like his.

He went back to the results page and scrolled down. There were YouTube tutorials, from women, that looked promising on Sugar Baby 101 Guides. Bucky might watch those at home later.

He kept scrolling and bookmarked some sites with Do's and Don'ts for aspiring sugar babies, and tips for beginners.

Bucky felt his anxiety spiking so he closed Google and opened Instagram instead. He needed some distraction scrolling ASAP. He stared at his feed of cute kitten videos and scenic beaches, double tapping the photos for a like at a rate of knots.

Unfortunately Natasha must've seen that he was online, as she sent him a DM. Bucky grunted softly to himself. He just needed some space to think. He opened the DM, relieved to see it was only a video of her cat playing.

Bucky could handle cats. He sent back some heart emojis then exited out of Instagram.

He checked his email, but no reply from his agency yet. Bucky tried calling them again, but now the line was busy.

Bucky set his phone down on the table, figured he may as well finish his croissant and his latte.

Imagine, he thought absently, all this time he was sitting in cramped offices for minimum wage every day, when there were braver people out there who earned five hundred dollars for one date.

Bucky wondered if he'd ever be able to do that. Surely for hundreds of dollars, the sugar baby in question would have to be pretty charming and delightful? And, obviously, amazing in bed? If sex was part of the arrangement?

Bucky chewed his lip, thinking.

Was he overthinking this? Bucky was aware he tended to overthink things. He couldn't help it, he was a thinker. That time Natasha had seen him making an itinerary for his weekend, she'd laughed for a solid five minutes then called him a nerd.

Bucky just liked being prepared. His problem was over prepping everything to the point where he got stuck in his own head for too long.

Well, today was a bust at any rate. Bucky figured he could either go down to his agency's office and bother them in person, or he could go home and nap. The likelihood of them finding him a new job today was slim, so nap seemed the sensible option.

Besides, if he went home, Bucky could make a start on his sugar baby research.

~~

"Alright," Bucky said, adjusting his glasses and stretching his hands out. "Let's do this."

He had a fresh mug of coffee (decaf for his nerves), his laptop, and a new notepad. He got comfy on the couch and started reading through his bookmarked sites from earlier.

"Sugar baby one-oh-one," he muttered, skimming through articles and copy pasting lines and paragraphs into a new document to save. Some of the tips he found were actually pretty useful.

Some, not so much: _assume an identity and stick to it._ Bucky snorted lightly at that. Well, that one was out the window.

A lot of the starting out tips seemed geared for online chat and meeting strangers, for actually _finding_ a sugar daddy, and Bucky supposed he'd skipped the meeting phase and found his sugar daddy already.

So, what was the next phase?

Bucky read on, and a lot of the advice was telling him as the sugar baby to be straightforward and to ask questions, because busy successful sugar daddies valued efficiency, and would appreciate clear communication.

Bucky made a note on his paper pad: _be direct._ Well, easier said than done, especially for him.

Bucky read on, and his eyes lingered next on the part about how the sugar baby should state clearly on the first date what sort of allowance they required. Some examples listed mentioned tuition fees and gifts on top of an allowance.

Bucky found his eyes glazing over as he drifted off into a daydream: he could go back to college, finish medical school, get his PhD.

Obviously that would be amazing, he thought, but he had to be realistic too. All the sites he visited advised sugar babies to have back up plans, a plan B if the sugar daddy suddenly dropped them and stopped paying.

And all these examples online didn't mention a debt contract with their sugar daddy either, Bucky had to remind himself.

He rubbed at his chin, thinking things through. Should he be treating Steve as his loan shark, or as his sugar daddy?

_Both?_

Would Steve have the answers to these questions if Bucky asked him, or were these types of questions not considered appropriate?

He was overthinking again.

Bucky shook his head and flapped his hands. "Just stop thinking ahead," he told himself. "Baby steps."

Okay, the next piece of advice was: _never slack off with appearances, the sugar baby must always look their best_. Bucky glanced down at himself, then reached up to feel how long his hair was getting. It felt kind of shaggy.

"Shit," he muttered, and wrote onto his notepad: _haircut, nice clothes._

He let out a frustrated sigh as he read on about sugar babies being discrete, being always available for the sugar daddy but setting clear boundaries about when and where they would meet.

That sounded reasonable.

A lot of this stuff just sounded like solid dating advice, Bucky thought. Not that he was an expert in dating, but he could definitely see the advantages to a more businesslike arrangement with clear goalposts, as opposed to regular dating where there was no guidelines whatsoever.

In fact some articles used corporate phrases like, _maximise your relationship_ , and Bucky started snickering over it. He wished he could go to the sugar baby summit, but flying to Los Angeles was out of the question.

The next part in the article Bucky read was about sex. Even reading the word _sex_ made Bucky feel all sorts of anxious and excited. In theory it could be fine, he supposed, but once again his mind liked to do risk assessment on every situation.

The article told him to assume that the sugar daddy would want to have sex, but (and this part surprised Bucky) the sugar baby wasn't obligated to have sex, it was their choice.

That set Bucky's mind at ease, seeing it written down in plain text like that. He grabbed his pen and wrote on his notepad: _it's my choice._

He read on, and the article explained how having a relationship with a sugar daddy could be wonderful, and it was fine to open up to them and become close...

The next part said, _don't get too attached._

Bucky nodded to himself. He'd have to remember that, and remember not to rely on extra money coming in.

His phone started vibrating, and Bucky dived to answer it, assuming it was his agency calling back. When he saw Steve's name on the screen, he froze in surprise.

But Steve had said he'd call Bucky today, so...

He accepted the call. "Hey," he said, managing to sound a lot calmer than he felt.

"Bucky, hey," Steve replied, that familiar deep voice sending a thrill through him. "I was just calling to check in. Everything okay?"

"Mm-hm," Bucky replied, his heart racing. He wasn't even sure why he was so nervous, glancing over at his laptop and research like he'd been caught stealing or something. "I, um, yes, everything's fine. How are you?"

There was a moment's pause, then Steve's answering chuckle right in Bucky's ear, all deep and breathy. "I'm great, Bucky. Thank you for asking."

Bucky smiled automatically. "Great," he repeated. "That's, um, that's good."

"Listen," Steve said, and Bucky heard some sounds in the background that sounded like the regular gym sounds. "I'll be a bit tied up with training this week, but I was thinking we could get some dinner one evening?"

"Uh, sure," Bucky agreed. "Dinner would be great."

"My only free times are Wednesday or Thursday," Steve said. "I'll have to text you nearer the time."

Bucky remembered his recently read advice about being flexible, so in his most polite work-voice he replied, "That's no problem at all. I'm free either of those evenings."

"If you have any allergies," Steve said, "you'll have to tell me, okay?"

"Sure." Bucky was already looking forward to some nice food again. "I don't think I have any allergies."

"Great," Steve said. "It's my friend's place, so he can make something else if the menu isn't what you like."

Oh, a restaurant? Bucky was surprised at that. Would this be their first official date? Like a _date-date_ , now that business was done?

Bucky's mind, helpful as ever, provided him disaster scenarios inside a restaurant, with Steve and everyone else looking fancy and Bucky looking a mess, feeling humiliated.

"Um," Bucky started, unsure how to go about this but willing to give it a try, "actually... Steve, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Bucky," Steve replied. "Ask me anything."

"Thanks," Bucky said, rubbing his face absently and knocking his glasses askew. "I, um, I think I need a haircut? And, I mean, do I need to dress up for dinner, or anything?"

"No need to dress up," Steve said, amusement lacing his voice. "You want to get a haircut?"

"Just a trim," Bucky admitted.

"Have you got one of those cash apps?" Steve asked.

Bucky's eyes went wide on the magic word: _cash._

"I have a PayPal?"

"That's fine," Steve said, all casual. "Text it over to me and I'll send you money for a haircut. Is there anything else you need?"

"Um..." Bucky glanced around his apartment, searching for inspiration. The one thing he was always short on was food. Decent food, anyway. "Um, maybe just some groceries?" he said hesitantly.

"Alright," Steve agreed. "Are you sure that's all, Bucky? Do you need anything else?"

"No, that's all," Bucky replied, remembering reading the advice on not to appear too greedy. "This would be great, really. You know, I only need a few things, so, yeah, that would be great."

He winced at himself for sounding so awkward.

"Alright, Bucky," Steve said, and Bucky heard the smile in his voice. "Text me your PayPal, okay? And hopefully I'll see you Wednesday night for dinner. I'll text you."

"Okay," Bucky said. "Thanks, Steve."

After Steve ended the call, Bucky winced at himself again. He picked up his pen and wrote down: _be less awkward, use better words._

"You're an adult," he muttered to himself, and opened a new text on his phone. "You can use words other than great. Seriously." He wrote out his PayPal details in the text then sent it to Steve.

Bucky opened his browser next, looking for a thesaurus app so he could practise. Maybe there was a word of the day app or something.

He was busy falling down a Google rabbit hole when his PayPal app told him he had money.

Bucky felt a small rush of excitement.

He had money. He had _money_ , in his account. He could order some Door Dash for food, and visit a barber tomorrow. Such excitement.

Bucky opened his PayPal, and when he saw the balance amount his eyebrows shot up so high his glasses slipped down his nose.

Three hundred dollars.

Bucky logged out and logged back in again just to make sure. The three hundred balance was still there.

Holy shit, Bucky thought. Either Steve had no idea how much a barber and basic groceries cost, or...

Or he was giving Bucky that amount by choice.

Was it a gift? Bucky wished he'd asked.

It was so much money, more than he needed. Bucky immediately sent a hundred dollars to his mom, knowing that they always needed groceries, especially for the baby.

Then he ordered himself take-out, feeling decadent. He should really be saving the money or spending it frugally but just this once, Bucky wanted to celebrate.

Besides, he thought to himself, hopefully there'd be a lot more money coming his way soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a few readers have asked the same questions about Steve, I thought I'd address that quickly to set your minds at rest. The question(s) were: is Steve a bad man, will he hurt Bucky, will there be any Dub Con? 
> 
> (The short answer is no.)
> 
> I just want to assure readers that if there were any dark themes or Dub Con involved in a fic, I would've tagged for those already and used warnings. If anything ever crops up in a chapter I feel needs extra warnings, I usually do an author's note at the start (but I don't anticipate needing that in this fic).
> 
> I personally don't think coercion is quite the same as Dub Con, in this setting anyway. Hopefully that will become clearer as you get to know Steve/see the story unfold and watch Bucky come into his own. 
> 
> So, no, I'm not writing Dark Steve in this, he's still the Steve you know. I'm confident you won't end up hating him or anything like that; the draw of his character is that he's charming and protective, and above all likeable. 
> 
> I actually based the idea for his character off of famous Irish mobster Mickey Spillane (1933 - 1977) the last of the gentlemen gangsters in NYC. His role in the community of poor Irish immigrants was to protect them, especially from outside threats (drugs, the Italian mafia), help them out of poverty and into society. Somebody like that is a figure in the community that everyone knows and looks up to, and you'll see a bit more of that with Steve in the next chapters. 
> 
> I do have a personal love of characters whom some may call anti heroes or criminals; you could say that they do bad things and walk in the grey but they're overall not a bad person at heart.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's 2 chapter updates at once, as a thank you for being supportive of this wip. Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~~

Bucky's temp agency didn't have anything for him the next day, so Bucky stayed in bed a little longer than normal, catching up on sleep that was always so elusive at night.

He woke up from anxious dreams about not being able to find another job, and immediately checked his phone for any new messages.

Nothing from his agency, and nothing from the new one either.

It was lucky Steve had given him all that money for groceries, as now Bucky would be down two day's worth of pay this week.

Bucky got himself up and showered. When he was drying his hair in front of the mirror, he experimented with a few different styles to see if he should attempt something new and fancy. Bucky's hair was thick and wavy, falling into natural curls if he let it grow long enough, and it was getting to that stage now.

It could do with a little trim.

He got himself dressed and ready to leave. Bucky's own neighborhood scared him and he wasn't about to look for a barber nearby, so he went out and caught the bus, headed into the city.

There was a barber's shop he'd spotted on his bus route a few times that looked fresh, clean and inviting. Bucky got off the bus and walked up to the barber's shop, noticing that the barber's inside were relatively young, trendy and with tattooed arms.

They were busy buzzing hair or wet shaving clients in their chairs, but one barber, a blond with a faux-hawk, was just cleaning up an empty chair and caught Bucky's eye in the window.

Bucky felt like a peeping tom, but the barber smiled at him and came to the door.

"Hey," they said in a friendly manner. "I'm Carol. You wanna come in?"

Bucky instantly got a queer vibe off of Carol that set him at ease. He soon found himself in Carol's chair with a gown wrapped around him, facing the mirror.

"Please don't tell me you want all this off?" Carol asked, standing behind Bucky and examining his hair.

Bucky smiled. "I think it needs a trim, or it'll get wild real quick."

Carol laughed. "Alright. A trim we can do. Are you happy with the style, or do you want to try something?"

Bucky wasn't feeling adventurous enough for new styles, and Carol laughed again upon noticing his expression in the mirror.

"Relax, pal. I'm thinking keep it longer on top, but go a little shorter at the sides..." Carol touched the sides of Bucky's head to demonstrate, holding the hair flat. "Show off those amazing cheekbones you got."

Bucky felt a blush coming on. "Okay," he said softly. "I'll trust your judgement."

Carol was really nice, the sort of friendly person that made Bucky feel more relaxed in their presence.

He spotted a little pronoun badge on Carol's shirt before he had to remove his glasses: the badge said _they/them_. And Bucky had been right about the queer vibes, as Carol happily talked about their girlfriend and seemed to guess Bucky's orientation too.

"So is this for a hot date?" they asked, grinning at Bucky in the mirror.

"I think so?" Bucky replied, blushing again. Carol was attacking his longer hair on top with scissors and comb. "I mean, it's dinner, but I'm not sure where. A restaurant, I think."

"Ooh, a surprise date," Carol said. "Hopefully somewhere nice, huh?"

"Hope so," Bucky agreed.

"It's my girlfriend's turn to cook tonight," Carol mentioned, standing behind Bucky and looking into the mirror. "She's a bit hit or miss with cooking, but she enjoys doing it."

"I can't cook much," Bucky admitted. "Just basics."

They chatted as Carol cut his hair, trimming up the top and cutting the sides down. When it was done Carol grabbed some product and rubbed it through Bucky's hair to make it look stylish. Bucky envied the ease with which they did that: he put his glasses back on and asked Carol to show him how to work the product in so he could try it himself at home.

He ended up buying a can of the spray wax Carol had recommended when he paid for the cut, and gave Carol a tip as well. They grinned at him, and gave him a card for the barber's store.

"Come back any time, Bucky," they said. "It was nice to meet you."

"Thank you." Bucky smiled happily and said goodbye.

He felt a lot better, and couldn't help admiring his reflection in store windows as he walked down the street.

The next thing he wanted was a new shirt. Not anything expensive or flashy, just something nice that he hadn't worn a hundred times to work already. He wanted to look his best for dinner.

By Wednesday, Bucky still didn't have a job.

He signed up to more temping agencies, because he was really starting to worry. The only thing he got offered on Wednesday was a data entry job that was over on the other side of the city. The commute was just too long for the pay, so Bucky didn't take that job, hoping something closer and better paid would be offered soon.

He went online and relisted the spare room in his apartment. Bucky dreaded the thought of living with somebody again and doing interviews for the room, but he couldn't manage the bills on his own.

All that kept him busy and by the time Steve texted him late afternoon, Bucky had almost forgotten about dinner. Luckily Steve said he was busy, so they'd be having dinner Thursday evening instead.

Thank God, Bucky thought.

He waded through his room applications and set up a couple interviews for Thursday and Friday, hoping he wasn't about to get any crazies.

He'd have to find somewhere with a printer to make new copies of the lease, as Bucky didn't have an office to sneak printing into right now.

He wondered if Steve's office had a printer. Would Steve mind him using it, or was that rude?

Maybe he could go find an Internet cafe or something instead.

Bucky was just about fed up with all this effort and life admin stuff. He needed a vacation, but he knew that wasn't about to happen any time soon.

Thursday, Bucky was a bit more organised with his prep.

He got up early to check job listings (of which there wasn't much), work on his resume (there wasn't much to that either), and applied for some full time positions in the city.

He had one person show up to see the spare room and said they'd think about it, and the other person never showed.

Bucky was unsure if potential room-mate number one was even that interested in the room, judging by the unimpressed look on their face when they saw it.

Bucky was aware it was a small and cramped apartment and, yeah, okay, some of the walls were a bit gross and the bathroom was also pretty old and not great. But at least it didn't have cockroaches. Bucky considered that a selling point.

By four PM, Bucky was getting ready for dinner.

He showered and made an attempt on his hair the way Carol had shown him. He wasn't as skilful as Carol but thanks to the cut, his hair didn't need a lot of product. He cleaned his glasses and put them on, checking himself out in the bathroom mirror.

Bucky was wearing his nicest jeans again, freshly washed, and his new shirt: a pale blue one with pockets. It was simple but a little fashionable too. He'd got in on sale and was happy with it.

By five, his stomach was rumbling.

Steve had texted him earlier to ask if Bucky was at home, as he was sending a car to Bucky's home address for him.

Bucky wasn't about to argue with that. It'd be quicker than the bus and he'd save money too.

Bucky got a text from an unknown number a couple times, giving him information about his ride. He'd felt a bit panicked at first, still jumpy about texts from unknown numbers.

He wasn't sure who was coming to pick him up, but when the text came to say his car was downstairs, Bucky went outside and saw that it was simply a cab, though it was black and looked like a private hire rather than a yellow car.

Bucky got in the back and the driver didn't say much beyond a polite hello. He drove down backstreets to avoid traffic before they got into Hell's Kitchen.

Bucky clutched his jacket on his lap, bouncing his knee and biting on his lip as he stared out the window at the buildings. He was nervous, unsure what to expect. As usual his mind was zipping off in all directions, imagining different scenarios. Bucky was trying his best to ignore it, to keep calm.

The car dropped him off outside Flannagan's gym, and being a dork Bucky had to ask if the driver if he'd been paid or not.

The driver nodded at him in the mirror. "All paid for, kid."

Right, Bucky thought.

He wasn't so keen on the _kid_ part from a man he didn't know, so Bucky handed over a ten dollar tip just to make a point.

Then he got out the car and with a steady breath, headed inside the gym. It was getting on for six PM, and yet Bucky was surprised to see the gym so busy.

Then again, he had no idea how gyms operated. Maybe people came in after work.

The bustle and noise threw Bucky for a hot minute, and he looked around the main floor to try spot anyone he knew.

The two offices were on either side of the gym, and Bucky supposed if he couldn't see Steve out on the floor he should go check his office next.

Bucky started to walk in the direction of Steve's office, keeping an eye out for Steve but he wasn't in the rings or near them. He did spot Scott by the ring, and hovered for a moment to see if Scott would notice him. Everyone by the ring seemed very invested in the fight currently happening.

"Hey," came a voice from behind him, and Bucky whirled around to see someone he didn't know approaching him. The man smiled, and not only did he seem friendly, he was also good looking.

"Bucky, right?" he guessed. "I'm Gabe. Gabe Jones."

"Um, hi," Bucky said.

"C'mon." Gabe gestured for Bucky to walk with him. "You wanna wait in the office? We're almost ready to head out."

"Okay," Bucky said, relieved.

Gabe led the way to Steve's office and opened the door. Steve wasn't in there, but Gabe didn't seem concerned and he told Bucky to grab a seat on the couch.

There was a whole leather couch along the wall, facing all the trophies and medals on the other side of the room. Bucky sat on one end, feeling nervous like he usually did inside Steve's office. (He wondered if it was a leftover anxiety from high school and the principal's office, or if he'd feel nervous inside Steve's office anyway.)

"Man, I'm starved," Gabe said, checking his watch. "Steve's in Wanda's office, by the way. Once they're finished up, we're outta here."

"Okay." Bucky just waited and watched Gabe, when Gabe wasn't looking. Bucky noticed that he was in casual clothes, not gym clothes. He wasn't sure what Gabe's role here was, but he seemed comfortable enough to move around Steve's office without Steve being here. Bucky remembered his printing dilemma, and looked about for a printer. He couldn't see one. The only electronics in the office he spotted was the laptop on Steve's desk.

Bucky could ask another time.

Gabe got his phone out and was looking at it as he went to the office window and peered through the blinds. He put the phone to his ear as he looked out at the gym. "Hey, man," he said, breaking into a grin. "Yeah. Yeah, we're leaving soon. I know, I know. What can you do?" He laughed in a good natured way.

Bucky got a good vibe from Gabe: like Carol, he seemed to radiate a friendly, calming vibe and Bucky was grateful for that.

Gabe chatted on the phone briefly before ending the call and coming to sit on the couch with Bucky.

It was a three seater couch, so there was enough space between them that Bucky didn't feel nervous, and Gabe seemed more interested in his phone, writing a text out.

"If we don't leave soon," Gabe muttered, "I'ma eat this couch."

Bucky wasn't sure what to make of that. Was Gabe joining them for dinner? Or going to the same restaurant?

After a few more minutes, Steve finally appeared, striding into his office.

"Alright," he said, then seemed to notice Bucky sitting there. "Oh, hey, Bucky. Glad you made it." Steve went over to his desk and sat down at the chair, opening his laptop.

Bucky wasn't sure what to say, he simply watched Steve frown at the laptop screen and rub a hand over his beard like he was thinking.

Steve wasn't in gym clothes either, Bucky noted. His clothes were nice but casual. Bucky was relieved, and didn't feel too out of place in his jeans and shirt.

How long were they going to sit there? Bucky wondered but he didn't dare ask. Steve was busy on his laptop, and Gabe was busy on his phone. Bucky considered getting his phone out too, but worried that might seem rude.

Thankfully, Steve closed up his laptop and indicated they were ready to go. Gabe got up, and Bucky followed suit. As they were exiting the office, Bucky got a mild surprise when Steve leaned in close and said, "Your hair looks nice."

He hadn't been expecting the compliment, or for Steve to lean in so close to murmur it by Bucky's ear. He barely got himself together enough to say thank you.

They exited the gym via a side door, with Clint (that guy in the garish print shirt and bruises still around one eye Bucky had sort of met before) waiting for them with a car.

The whole operation of moving from gym to car was swift, precise, and with a sense of quiet urgency to it. Bucky picked up on the vibes instantly, and noticed the way Gabe and Clint flanked Steve, and how Steve kept Bucky in front of him so he was in the center of this nucleus of men.

Bucky found himself herded into the back of a black SUV, with the redhead, Wanda, was already sitting there, tapping away on her phone.

Steve got into the back with them, while Clint got in to drive and Gabe went around to the passenger side.

Clint didn't hang around either, driving them out of there fast.

Maybe they were late, Bucky wondered, totally bemused.

Wanda and Steve talked business on the ride over, though nothing Bucky could understand as they spoke cryptically. Gabe and Clint were having a much more chatty conversation in the front, seemingly about food.

Bucky wondered where Pietro was, the younger guy that was Wanda's brother. She didn't seem particularly interested in speaking to Bucky beyond a polite hello, but as she had her phone open and was talking to Steve, it seemed she was still working.

They only ended up driving two blocks.

Bucky felt confused by that, as surely walking would've been quicker in the traffic.

Clint stopped the car on the main street, near an intersection. There was a bar up ahead on the corner with lettering on the windows that said _Dugan's_ , and people smoking outside. Steve, Wanda and Gabe got out.

Steve told Bucky to stay in the car, and Clint would take him round back. Bucky didn't know what to say to that, blinking in surprise as the door shut on him.

He watched as Steve and the others walked up the street to the bar, and were immediately greeted by several of the people smoking outside.

Clint drove around the corner, and Bucky craned his neck to look out the window until Steve disappeared from view.

The bar was on the street corner and down the side street, all under the same red brick building, was two store fronts for car accessories with stacks of tyres piled high on the side-walk. The yellow awnings above the stores said _Dernier's Flats Fixed,_ and _Car Accessories_.

Behind the tyre piles was a third store spot: a small and empty garage space, just big enough for the SUV. Clint pulled in and parked. A guy with thinning hair and a dark mustache, dressed in blue overalls, was cleaning up a wrench inside the store. Clint raised a hand to him in a wave, and the guy went over to pull the door closed on the garage.

Clint unbuckled and turned around in his seat. "Just a few things before I take you inside," he said to Bucky. "You're new, so don't use your phone at the dinner table, it makes people nervous."

Bucky nodded.

Shit. What was going on? He wasn't having dinner with just Steve?

"If you get an urgent call," Clint went on, "just tell me and I'll take you outside so you can answer it."

Bucky nodded along.

"If they start talking business or whatever," Clint continued, "don't ask what it's about. Best just don't listen. Oh, and if anyone else comes in or you recognise who they are, don't mention that either."

"Okay," Bucky managed.

"Great!" Clint said jovially. "Let's go eat!"

They got out the car and Clint led Bucky through the car shop, out onto the street and over to a side door on the building.

Bucky glanced up at the building, noticing how nice it was, how well kept for its age. The door to all the apartments above was, presumably, the black door with windows and a small porch above. Bucky saw stairs through the door's windows, and he thought for a moment how amazing it had to be to live there and only three blocks away from Times Square.

Clint took Bucky through a nondescript door on the side of the building and Bucky found himself inside the bar, the noise, music, and the smell of beer hitting him all at once.

It was a small venue, that much was clear, with one long bar on the other side of the room. They'd come in the back end, Bucky noticed, glancing over at all the patrons down the other end of the bar by the main entrance. He could just see Steve because he was so tall, surrounded by a whole lot of people eager to welcome him in.

Bucky barely had a moment to take it all in before Clint hustled him through another door and then Bucky was in what was clearly the bar's kitchen. The air con was on, making it cool, and wafting all the delicious smells of cooked and fried food right into Bucky's nose.

His stomach rumbled, and he looked around with interest at the kitchen itself. Clint led Bucky through to the back, past a man at the grill wearing a white chef's hat.

"Hey, Monty," Clint greeted him, patting him on the shoulder as they walked by.

"Good afternoon," Monty replied in a British accent. "Table's ready."

"Awesome," Clint said, and ushered Bucky through.

There was a clear space around the back, with a round table and chairs set up like it had been taken from any fancy restaurant's dining area and just deposited right there: white tablecloth, silver cutlery, napkins, glasses and menus sat waiting.

Bucky was just so surprised by it all.

Clint indicated which chair he was to sit in, so Bucky sat. He put his jacket on too, as it was so cool. Clint crouched by a nearby refrigerator, pulling out bottles of beer to inspect them.

"What you drinking?" he asked.

"Um," Bucky said, totally unsure. "I don't mind."

"They got everything, it's a bar," Clint said, and his easy going demeanour put Bucky at ease. "So what do you want?"

"Um, is wine okay?" Bucky asked.

"Sure." Clint rustled around in the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle to inspect it. "Uh, got a Chardonnay here?"

"Yeah, perfect," Bucky said. As long as it wasn't red, he didn't care.

Clint brought the bottle over, opening it. "Monty," he called out, "where's the wine glasses?"

"Check the glass washer!" came the reply.

Bucky was so bemused.

He sat there while Clint fetched glasses, rinsing them under the cold tap at a dish washer's sink because they were hot. Then he dried them off and poured out two glasses of wine: one for Bucky, and Bucky was going to guess that the other glass was for Wanda.

Clint got a root beer for himself and drank from the bottle. He indicated the menu to Bucky. "Pick something to eat. They won't mind us starting without them."

Bucky did as he was told, and looked through the menu.

There was some standard bar food, burgers and sides, pies or soups, and then a whole lot of food Bucky wasn't familiar with but was willing to bet were Irish from the names alone: _boxty, coddle, and colcannon_.

There weren't any photos with the descriptions so Bucky figured he'd play it safe, since he couldn't get his phone out to use Google.

"Can I get a burger and fries?" he asked.

"Good call." Clint leaned back in his seat and whistled loudly. "Burger and fries, Monty! Twice, thanks, pal."

"Coming up!" Monty called back.

Oh, well, Bucky thought to himself as he sipped his wine. At least he was getting free food. Even if it was while sitting in a kitchen.

Bucky couldn't help wonder if sneaking him in via the back was an appearances thing or a safety thing.

_Both?_

For all Bucky knew, Steve wasn't out publicly. Bucky hadn't really considered that, but he was certainly considering it now.

Wanda arrived first, sitting down next to Clint and picking up the glass of wine he'd poured for her with barely an acknowledgement. Bucky wasn't sure if she was distracted by work, phone still in her hand as she tapped away, or if she was kind of standoffish generally.

Bucky had his burger and fries by then, as did Clint, and was happily clearing his plate.

The next person to make an appearance was a big, burly man with a ginger handlebar mustache. He even had a bowler hat on.

The big man greeted Clint warmly, and when Clint said, "Hey, Dugan," Bucky realised this was probably the guy whose bar it was.

Dugan seemed friendly in the same way Clint and Gabe were, with a big smile on his face and joking around. He certainly had a presence, given his size. He introduced himself and shook Bucky's hand, asking if Bucky had enjoyed his food.

Bucky told him yes, it was wonderful. He would've given the same answer even if it'd been terrible (luckily it hadn't, so Bucky had no need to lie).

"Try the colcannon," Dugan said, his booming voice echoing off the walls of the kitchen. "Great stuff."

Bucky nodded along. He was already full, but he could probably eat a bit more.

Dugan left them alone, passing by Monty at the grill and calling out, "Cap's party is having the stew! And throw in some ham hock colcannon for the lad there."

"Coming up," Monty replied.

Bucky would've liked to use Google right about now to know what the hell _colcannon_ was.

When Steve and Gabe finally came into the kitchen, carrying pints of beer each, Monty had just started bringing over plates of food for the table.

Bucky watched with interest as everyone talked among themselves, curious as to the dynamics in the room. While Steve was no doubt the one everyone else was looking to and waiting on, Steve wasn't being an ass about it. In fact he seemed quite laid back, chatting and smiling like he was among friends.

There was just a certain _something_ that marked the dynamics as not quite normal, Bucky thought. Like the way Monty laid out the plates of food and asked Steve and only Steve if he wanted anything else; like Steve spoke for all of them.

In a way it reminded Bucky of his childhood dinner times, of his dad before the drink. Bucky and Becca had to mind their manners back then, as their mom had said, and whenever their dad asked them something they were expected to answer politely.

Bucky still wasn't sure of his role here, with all these people, but he knew enough to keep quiet and answer politely if anybody spoke to him.

Gabe and Clint did most of the talking, even with their food in front of them. Steve ate as he listened, either nodding or shaking his head to whatever the question put to him was.

Again, the chat was relatively cryptic. Hard for Bucky to fully understand the context or what they were talking about. Lots of nicknames mentioned.

Bucky just did as Clint had told him, and minded his own business. His new plate of food, the colcannon, was actually pretty nice. It was basically a potato mash with seasoning, some bacon bits, and a fried egg on top.

Bucky was going to be very full after all this, but he didn't turn down free food. He ate quietly, occasionally looking at Steve across the table and trying to catch his eye. Steve seemed pretty busy with his food and the conversation, but he did smile at Bucky once.

Bucky couldn't help wonder why Steve hadn't told him they'd all be eating together. Not that Bucky minded, not really. This was all kind of interesting, and having other people there, especially Gabe and Clint, gave Bucky a tiny bit of relief.

It was like, with other people around, he could relax because it wasn't a one on one date, and the focus or conversation definitely wasn't on him. He was more a fly on the wall here, leaving Bucky free to do what he did best: people watch.

Wanda made a small noise as she looked at her phone, and Bucky wasn't sure if it was an annoyed sound or one of exclamation.

"Hot weekend," she announced, in her heavy Sokovian accent. "Is the beach house free?"

She was directing the question to Steve, and Bucky's eyes flicked over to the older man to see his reaction.

"How hot?" Steve replied, taking a big gulp of his beer.

They'd mostly finished their food, but the beers and wine kept on coming.

"Almost ninety," she said, checking her phone again.

Clint snorted lightly. "It's barely been sixty all week, now suddenly it'll be ninety for the weekend? I don't buy it."

"My weather app is saying ninety," Gabe put in, then said quietly to Steve, "Phillips could meet you at the beach house instead?"

Steve made a considering face, then calmly took another sip of beer. Everyone else seemed to be waiting for his reply, as Bucky subtly looked around the table at them all to gauge their reactions.

This was interesting stuff, as far as Bucky was concerned.

After a long moment of quiet, Steve then said to Gabe, "Check the gym's rota to see if Scott's free or if he's got his daughter this weekend."

Gabe nodded, and tapped away on his phone. "It's not a Cassie weekend," he confirmed.

Steve nodded. "Alright. Schedule him in for Saturday and Sunday, and tell Logan to be on standby for him."

"Done," Gabe said. "Does this mean we're going to the beach?"

Steve smiled then, and he caught Bucky's eye. "You fancy a weekend at the beach, Bucky?"

Suddenly all eyes turned to him, and Bucky felt his cheeks heat up.

"Um, what?" he said, caught off guard.

"You're not working, are you?" Steve asked.

Bucky shook his head.

"We have plenty of room." Steve took another sip of beer, watching Bucky the whole time. "It's in the Hamptons. I got a big house right on the beach. Private pool, too."

Private pool? Magic words, Bucky thought. He could really use a vacation. Not that he was prepared for it. "I, um, I don't have anything for swimming," he said, which was true. He had no swim shorts, no spare towels.

"We have everything at the house and then some," Steve said calmly. "All you need to bring is yourself."

Well, like Bucky would say no. He nodded his head. "Okay, sure. Sounds fun."

"We usually drive up on Friday night," Steve told him, as Bucky nodded along. "Clint will pick you up at your place. We'll drive back to the city on Sunday night."

"Great," Bucky replied. "I can't wait."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hand if you, like Bucky, are a bit surprised at the family dinner in a kitchen!
> 
> Or, if you think you know what game Steve is playing, drop in a comment to call it early! :)
> 
> ~~
> 
> A bit of background if you're interested:
> 
> I'm basing Dugan's bar on The White House Bar (60s, 70s) which was the HQ for Mickey Spillane, head of the Irish mob. It's been through a lot of name changes but if you Google image search Hellcat Annie's tap room, NYC, you can see a good few pics.
> 
> Yes, this location and all the Howling Commando's cameos (Howling Cameos? lol) will appear more later. Hope you enjoy them!


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escape to The Hamptons

Bucky was only at Dugan's bar (well, in the kitchen, anyway) for just under three hours in total.

They'd spent the time eating and drinking, with Bucky mainly listening to the others chatting. He spoke if anyone asked him a question directly, and when anyone did that it was mostly about safe topics like the food or general New York chat like the weather, the traffic, or local news.

Then Steve got a call on his phone, and he answered it at the table. "Hey. You're here? Alright, can you give me five minutes." He ended the call and said, "Abe's here. Clint? Can you give Bucky a ride home."

Clint nodded, using a napkin to wipe his mouth. "Sure thing."

So, Bucky thought, this was his time to leave.

Interesting.

He wasn't mad, he supposed. He was just... a bit taken aback. It was all just unexpected, this dinner in a kitchen. Bucky had expected dinner one on one with Steve, like before. Not dinner with all of Steve's co-workers and associates (including clandestine meetings that needed Bucky rushed home for, apparently).

Steve hadn't even spoken to Bucky all that much over dinner, even though Bucky had been waiting for it, had gazed at Steve a few times as he was speaking quietly with Gabe, talking about things Bucky couldn't quite hear or understand because they were so cryptic about it.

Oh, well.

He'd had some nice food, and he was going to get a free weekend away too. It wasn't all bad.

When Bucky left, everyone was polite and said goodbye to him, then Clint took him out through the back again.

In the car shop, the same guy in overalls was there, his shop still open in the evening. He was talking in French with an older man with white curls, gold rimmed glasses and dressed smartly in a brown suit. He seemed to know who Clint was, and paused his conversation to say hello in English.

He had an accent, but Bucky couldn't quite place it. German, perhaps.

Clint greeted him a little differently than most of the others Bucky had met tonight; less casual, more formal.

"Hi, Mr. Erskine, how are you?" Clint asked, all while guiding Bucky past the two gentlemen and toward the SUV.

"Oh, quite well," the older man replied with a smile. "I was just stopping by for some of Dugan's wonderful stew."

"Stew's great tonight!" Clint waved a hand goodbye at the men as he unlocked the SUV. "I'll be back soon." He opened the passenger door for Bucky, so Bucky got in. The man in overalls (Bucky presumed was Dernier as it said on the shop front) opened up the garage door so Clint could drive out.

"Oh, shit. Wait a second," Clint muttered, and stopped by the curb while he handed Bucky his cell. "You better put your address in before I go on auto pilot and take us to Bed-Stuy."

"Sure." Bucky put his address into Google maps, and Clint set the phone on the dash so he could hear the directions.

"Wow, you're pretty far out," Clint commented, turning off down a side street so they wouldn't hit traffic. The Google maps app kept twisting and turning on the screen to adjust for their direction.

Bucky liked Clint, he seemed easy going and approachable. Almost enough to let Bucky forget about that whole 'whammy drawer' thing when they'd first met.

"So seems like I'm picking you up tomorrow night," Clint said. "I'll give you my number and if you need anything before we leave, we can always swing by a store before we pick up the others."

Bucky was a bit concerned he had no swim shorts, and he didn't want to get to somebody else's beach house and find there was no option for him to wear.

"A quick trip to Target would be really awesome, actually," Bucky said. "If that's okay?"

"Yeah," Clint said easily. "No problem."

"Can I put on the radio?" Bucky asked next.

"Sure." Clint switched it on for him, the gestured at it. "Find whatever you want."

Bucky picked a station that was playing music (just some regular pop, nothing too wild) then sat back in his seat.

He was itching to ask Clint questions, especially about Steve, but Bucky didn't do that for a number of reasons... and mainly because he didn't want to seem like a naïve kid with a crush or something.

Bucky picked some safe topics to discuss instead, starting with food. Clint liked food and he had _opinions_. In fact, once Clint started talking he just kept going, meandering onto other subjects. He mentioned the circus a couple times, and when Bucky pressed him on it explained he'd grown up in a travelling circus.

Clint was very easy to talk to. Maybe one day (not today, but someday soon), Bucky would press Clint on some other topics. Topics like Steve.

If Bucky was still in the dark on those topics, of course.

Clint drove them to Bucky's building and asked where he could park. It wasn't exactly a safe neighborhood for leaving cars, especially nice cars, but Bucky thought the SUV might be okay for a few minutes.

He tried to assure Clint he would make it into his building just fine from the curb, but Clint only chuckled and shook his head.

"Steve says take you home, I'm making sure you get home," Clint replied, finding a spot to park.

He escorted Bucky to his building, then inside the building and up to his floor. Bucky started to feel nervous; after all, he didn't know Clint. But once they got to Bucky's apartment door, Clint bid him goodbye and left swiftly.

Bucky was home safe, and relieved. He shut himself inside his apartment and turned on the lights. It was tempting to video call Nat and tell her about his bizarre meal in a kitchen tonight, but it would be the middle of the night in Russia.

Also, Bucky was keeping all this a secret. For now, at least.

If he really did go out to the beach this weekend and took photos, he'd have to remember not to upload them to Instagram without thinking up a good story first.

Bucky opened his inbox on his phone, going to Steve's thread. His thumb hovered over his keypad, about to type a message.

He should say thank you, probably.

But what if Steve didn't want to be disturbed? Somebody else had been joining them for dinner.

Bucky made a face, considering. It would be rude not to thank Steve. He decided to keep it short, and wrote _Thank you for dinner_. He sent the text and wasn't sure if he expected a reply or not. After nearly twenty whole minutes, Steve did reply but it was simply a smiley face emoji.

Bucky wasn't sure what to do with that, he couldn't analyse an emoji, not a standard smiling face anyway. If he was going to guess, the emoji probably said: you're welcome and I'm too busy to text right now.

Yeah, something like that, Bucky thought. Which was totally expected, of course, because Steve was clearly very busy.

So, why did Bucky feel so annoyed over it?

~~

Friday was slightly more promising for Bucky in both the job and room-mate situation.

The new temp agency he'd signed on with offered him an interview on Monday for a PA position, right in Manhattan. Bucky checked out the details and the pay was pretty good, better than his data entry jobs had been so far. He'd be covering for maternity leave, so while it wasn't a forever job it could potentially be quite a few months if he got it.

He confirmed the interview for Monday, and set a reminder to himself to research the company he'd be interviewing for.

Next, he had another appointment to view the spare room, and the person who turned up seemed nice, and certainly more interested in the room than they other person had been.

"I need a place real quick," she explained to Bucky. Samantha, her name was. "When could I move in?"

Bucky was pleasantly surprised, and he'd prefer to share with a girl if he had to share with a stranger.

"Um, well," he said, adjusting his glasses, "if you want to, you can sign the papers today, and I'll give you the landlord's details so you can transfer the deposit to him. Then he'll add you to the lease."

Samantha sucked in air through her teeth, making a face. "I'm not real keen on leases. Don't you want to sublet it? You can make money that way."

"Um." Bucky searched for a polite response. He wasn't about to let some stranger move into his spare room without the proper paperwork. "I can't sublet it," he said. "It's just the usual way or nothing. Sorry."

Samantha grumbled a bit, but she seemed cheerful enough when she told Bucky she'd be in touch and said goodbye at the door.

Bucky wasn't sure if she would be, but if he nailed his interview on Monday he'd have a job again, and maybe he wouldn't need to rent his spare room after all.

He had enough time to shower, change and pack a bag for the weekend before Clint arrived to pick him up.

It was just after three PM, as Clint said he wanted to get them over to Hell's Kitchen before the traffic got bad, and they still had to stop at a store along the way.

Bucky had expected to be taken to Target, like he'd suggested, but Clint said he knew a better store in the city. He pulled them up to a store on the main street, double parking while he waited for a space. Bucky peered out the car window at the store front. It looked like a Forever 21 but a bit more designer.

Not that Bucky knew much about fashion. He did know his budget probably wouldn't stretch to this store.

"Um, Clint," he said, as Clint was parking the car. "I think this store would be a bit expensive."

"Oh, don't worry about that." Clint grinned at him. "Steve's got it covered."

"Oh," Bucky said, relieved. Well, fine, then.

They went into the store, Clint showing Bucky where the beachwear was like he was familiar with the store.

Bucky began searching the racks for some appropriate swim shorts. "How many pairs do you think I'll need?" he asked. He wasn't sure if there was any laundry services at the house.

"Get at least four of everything," Clint advised.

Bucky wasn't sure he'd need that much, but he started picking out a selection of swim shorts, regular shorts, and hot weather friendly shirts and t-shirts.

For some reason Clint was rifling through a rack of bikinis, and Bucky almost asked him about it but decided not to.

Bucky didn't have flipflops either, so he got a pair of those. Clint helped him carry it all up to the counter, all the while trying to hide the red bikini he'd picked out amongst the other clothes.

"I'll get this," Clint said, "you go grab a hat and sunglasses real quick. You're gonna need them."

"I lost my prescription sunglasses," Bucky explained.

"Don't matter," Clint replied, counting out a wad of cash. "Just get some regular sunglasses. Get two pairs."

Bucky went and fetched two sets of sunglasses. He'd never had any this nice, though he wouldn't be able to see very well if he wasn't wearing his normal glasses.

He'd packed some contact lenses in his bag just in case, but he wasn't keen on wearing them.

Shopping done (and Bucky wondering why Clint wanted a red bikini but he didn't ask), they drove down to Hell's Kitchen.

By the time they'd got there through the traffic, stopping for an iced coffee along the way because Clint liked coffee apparently, it was nearing six.

Gabe was waiting for them at the side door to the gym, and when Clint pulled up to the curb Gabe started loading bags into the trunk.

"You want me to drive?" Gabe yelled to Clint.

"I'm fine," Clint called back, and smiled at Bucky. "It's only a couple hours. You probably wanna jump in the back, though."

"Oh. Sure." Bucky took off his seatbelt and got out the car. It was hot on the side-walk. The weekend was going to be even hotter. Bucky got into the backseat, behind the passenger side as he suspected Steve would be sitting there.

He wondered who'd be riding up with them. Bucky hoped he was allowed to use his phone on the journey, as he'd need something to fiddle with.

As he'd predicted, Steve got into the passenger side of the car. Gabe got into the back with Bucky, closing his eyes and letting out a huge sigh when he shut the door.

"Let's get out of here," he said. "I've had enough of the city today."

Steve actually turned in his seat to throw a smile at Gabe. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you working too hard?"

Steve had dark sunglasses on, but his smile was bright and amused. Bucky looked at Gabe, saw him smiling too. They clearly had a rapport between them.

Bucky felt a small stab of jealousy, especially as he was sat behind Steve and had so far been ignored.

This wasn't quite what he'd expected, and Bucky wasn't sure where to put all these feelings that were suddenly surfacing.

Maybe if he drank some wine later, those feelings would quiet down.

Clint drove them out of the city, and Steve turned on the radio. Bucky wondered if anyone else would join them at this beach house, but he didn't ask. As both Gabe and Steve were on their phones, Bucky thought to hell with it, and got his phone out too.

Natasha was still awake, though it had to be after midnight in Russia. Bucky chatted with her a little on Instagram, sending pictures from other accounts back and forth. Nat shared a video of her own cat and it was nice, just chatting to Nat, catching up.

Bucky wished he could tell her where he was going, but he hadn't thought up an excuse as to why he'd suddenly be able to afford a weekend in the Hamptons by himself, and he knew Nat would ask questions.

So, it was a secret for now.

The traffic wasn't too bad once they were out of Manhattan, and Clint drove like a maniac on open road so they made good time. Barely two hours later, they'd reached the Hamptons.

Bucky had never been before. He wasn't a native New Yorker, and nobody he knew lived in the Hamptons. He pressed himself up to the window to stare out at all the houses they passed. Everything looked big, expensive and spread out. Bucky was surprised at the amount of trees everywhere too. The Hamptons was a lot greener than he'd expected, for being so close to the beach.

Clint drove them up Marine Boulevard, while Steve cracked a yawn and told Gabe, "See if Luis has dinner ready."

"Already did," Gabe replied, tapping on his phone. "I'm giving him our ETA now."

"Awesome," Clint put in. "I'm starving."

Bucky felt hungry too, as he hadn't eaten since lunch. He was looking forward to a weekend of free food.

Thirty minutes later, Clint drove up what seemed more like an unmarked road between houses, and pulled into a drive in front of a house. It was dark, but the lights were on and Bucky stared up at the house as they all got out the car.

Bucky was by no means an expert on houses, but this one looked like a newer build than some of the other houses nearby. Two floors, from what he could see in the dark. The windows and front doors were glass and illuminated from the inside. There was smooth white stone on all the ground outside, and shrubbery dotted about.

"Bucky?" Steve called, and smiled at him when Bucky looked his way. "C'mon. Let's get some dinner."

He was waiting for Bucky, while Gabe and Clint took the bags from the trunk. Bucky went over to Steve, a little surprised by the sudden attention he was getting. Steve smiled at him again and set his hand on Bucky's shoulder, hot and heavy. Bucky immediately went rigid but he tried not to let his nerves show. Steve was only guiding him to the house.

"We eat on the ground floor," Steve explained, as they approached the front door. "Everyone gets their own room upstairs. Luis will show you later."

"Oh," Bucky said, feeling a mixture of relief and confusion all at once. "Great. Thanks."

Steve unlocked the door and showed Bucky inside. "Let me just show you the basics," Steve said, walking off through the open hallway.

Bucky's eye caught on some modern art paintings hanging on the walls; bright splashes of color against all the white décor of the house. He quickly followed after Steve as he was pointing things out.

"Couple of bathrooms down that way," Steve explained. "Kitchen's over there, but we'll eat in here." He showed Bucky through to a huge open plan area, with an enormous couch by a modern, open fireplace. Beyond there was a large dining table and chairs next to floor to ceiling windows and open doors to outside.

It was dark now, but Bucky heard the sounds of the sea from here.

Steve must've seen the wonder on his face, as he asked Bucky if he wanted to look outside. Bucky nodded, so Steve took him outside onto a decked area with more seating.

"There's a pool right there," Steve said, pointing out the dark shape right in front of them. "And in the morning you'll see the beach from here."

Bucky already felt the sea air on his face, and he just wanted to sigh happily on the spot. "This is so perfect," he said, and dared to glance at Steve. "Thank you for letting me come."

Steve smiled back at him. "I'm glad you could join us." He put a hand around Bucky's shoulder, guiding him back inside the house. "Go wash up," he instructed, "come back in here and we'll be ready to eat."

"Okay," Bucky murmured, feeling shy again. The weight of Steve's arm around him made him hunch in on himself a little, just because he was shy.

He did as Steve said, and went to find a bathroom. When he turned the light on, Bucky gazed around at all the fancy products and fresh towels, and felt like he was in an expensive hotel bathroom.

(Not that he'd ever been in an expensive hotel.)

Bucky washed up and used a soap scented with bergamot that made his hands smell real nice. He couldn't help stroking the fluffy hand towel as well, marvelling at how soft it was.

When he went back into the open plan area, Steve and Clint were unpacking bags of food onto the table with another man Bucky hadn't met yet.

"Bucky," Steve said, "come sit."

Bucky sat, and Clint came by with a stack of plates, setting one in front of Bucky before he set the rest of the table.

"Luis," Steve said to the dark haired man, "this is Bucky. Bucky, Luis. He looks after the house for me."

"Hey, man." Luis smiled at Bucky, then looked back to Steve. "No Scotty this weekend?"

"Someone's gotta run the gym," Steve replied, inspecting the food boxes.

Bucky eyed the bags Steve was unpacking; they seemed like take-out, but real fancy take-out. Apparently they were eating Thai food, which Bucky was more than happy with. The smell was incredible.

"Luis, can you organise drinks," Steve said. "See what wines we got, Bucky likes white. And I'm sure Clint would enjoy a beer after all that driving."

"No problem, no problem," Luis said, clearing bags away and rushing off.

Clint sat down at the table with a groan, rubbing at his lower back. "Does that chick with the massage table still come around?"

Steve and Gabe exchanged a look, then smiled. "No," Gabe said, "but if you ask nicely I can give you one."

"Pass," Clint said. "No offence, man. But if I'm going to get all oiled up, I'd rather it was with a woman."

"Who said anything about getting oiled up?" Gabe quipped.

"Isn't there an app for this?" Steve said, as he set out the food on the table. "That surprise massage app?"

Bucky simply watched them talking, sitting quietly in his place.

"Surprise massage?" Gabe laughed. "Sounds like an assault waiting to happen."

"Not like that," Steve said, laughing too. "I mean, you don't know who it is you'll get. Like, ordering food, right? You don't know who's going to deliver it until they get there."

"None of that sounds appealing." Clint groaned, shifting in his seat. "I don't want a man to show up."

"You need to get that kink in your back looked at," Gabe told him. Luis came back with a tray of drinks and glasses, and began pouring for them. "Luis," Gabe said, "you must know someone out here that can massage Clint so he'll shut up."

"Yeah, man," Luis replied. "I know some people."

"There you go," Steve said, gesturing to Clint. "All you had to do was ask Luis."

As they all bantered back and forth, Bucky was served wine and food, and he didn't need to lift a finger. He felt like something between a kid at the grown up's table and a spoiled princess right now. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to help or not, but he decided he'd offer to help clear the table later. That seemed a good plan.

Once the food was plated up the others sat down to eat, they tucked in. Bucky had a green curry with some sides, and it was absolutely delicious. The wine was amazing too, a sweet white wine. Everyone chatted casually, about the food or to drag Clint again for not getting a massage.

It almost felt like a normal conversation, Bucky thought. No cryptic discussions came up, at least not for an hour or so.

When they'd finished eating, Steve and Gabe got up and took their drinks over to the couch. Bucky tried to help Luis clear the table, but Clint patted his shoulder and told him to go sit down.

"I don't mind helping," Bucky told him.

"Maybe another time." Clint smiled at him and topped up his wine glass. "Now take this," he handed the full glass to Bucky, "and go sit down."

"Okay." Bucky smiled back. He did like Clint. Bucky headed over to the fireplace, glancing over his shoulder at Clint and Luis clearing the table, joking and chatting together. Everyone seemed pretty friendly here, which was nice. Bucky hadn't lived with nice room-mates for a while now.

He went over to the massive couch, in an L-shape, and hovered for a moment in case he was intruding. Steve and Gabe were in the corner seats, not sitting together but sitting close enough to talk.

Bucky wondered again if they were just friends, if Gabe was straight or into guys. He'd have to look for more clues over the weekend.

Steve noticed Bucky hovering and gestured him over. "You wanna watch some TV?" Steve asked, as Bucky sat near him but with a polite space between them.

"I don't mind," Bucky said, which caused Steve to smile.

"Well, I'll put it on anyway." Steve pressed a button on the coffee table, which Bucky had presumed was a solid stone slab, but then a flatscreen TV rose up out the top. "Neat," he said, watching it whir into place and switch itself on.

"Cool, huh?" Steve smiled. "Just a heads up, don't get this out when the fire is on. Gets too hot."

"Sure." Bucky nodded, and took the small remote control Steve handed to him. He was told to find something to watch, so Bucky started channel surfing. Steve and Gabe seemed busy chatting anyway, and Bucky understood that Steve was just giving him something to do.

At least, that's what it seemed like.

Bucky didn't mind that so much. Better than sitting there, nervous and unsure what to say. Now he could see there, nervous and watching TV, which was slightly better.

He managed to find a sit com he used to watch, and that seemed inoffensive enough to have on.

Clint and Luis came over to the couch, sitting at the far end (it was a very long couch) and chatting more raucously.

Not long after, Bucky heard what sounded like a car squealing to a stop outside, and he turned his head at the noise.

Steve clicked his tongue and Gabe was shaking his head. "Pietro's parking ain't getting better," Gabe muttered.

Oh, that was Wanda's brother, Bucky realised.

A few minutes later, Pietro and Wanda strolled into the room. Wanda, again not saying much, at least to Bucky, headed to the kitchen first, while Pietro passed by the back of the couch and said a jovial hello.

"You're gonna ruin your tyres," Gabe told him, but Pietro only grinned and spread his arms out.

"I have a need for speed," he said, his Sokovian accent heavy.

"Why don't you speed over to the kitchen," Steve said dryly, "and eat some dinner."

Pietro clapped his hands together in a gesture of thanks. "I will, boss. Thank you."

Bucky just stayed quiet, and sipped his wine.

That was the first time he'd heard someone else call Steve _boss_. At least, that he could remember. It could just be a saying, but Bucky wasn't that naïve.

Nobody else seemed concerned or bothered at all. In fact, things seemed pretty calm and laid back in general. The atmosphere was pleasant (always a relief to Bucky).

Pietro and Wanda had rustled up some food and sat at the dining table to eat it. Luis and Clint were still chatting and occasionally laughing on the other end of the couch, while Steve and Gabe were having a more subdued conversation near Bucky.

It wasn't that late, but Bucky started yawning. The wine was probably to blame. On the second yawn that he tried to hide, Steve called Luis over. "Luis, would you show Bucky his room?"

Bucky was, truthfully, a little relieved to be excused from the group. He made sure he said thank you to Steve before he left. Steve and Gabe bid him goodnight, and Clint gave him a wave as Luis led him away.

Bucky was shown up the stairs (a very modern and artistic white metal staircase that Bucky was now terrified of falling down because that was a helluva lot of steps) and to the next floor where all the bedrooms were.

Luis showed him to a decent sized room with beautiful furnishings and, while the view behind the blinds was dark now, Luis said it was a sea view.

He gave Bucky his bag, along with a bottle of spring water, then pointed out where his own bedroom was along the hallway if Bucky needed anything. "Any time, man," Luis told him. "Just knock."

"Thank you, Luis," Bucky replied.

"Any time, any time." Luis patted Bucky's arm briefly, one of those friendly _Bro_ pats that Bucky didn't often receive from men and was a little startled to receive one now. But Luis was nice, and Bucky would be prepared for a pat next time.

Maybe he'd even start dishing out pats himself.

Bucky shut the door to his room, noting with relief that there was a lock on the door.

Then he wondered if he was allowed to use the lock. Would Steve visit him later? No, surely not, Bucky thought. It just didn't feel right, the first night and all.

And, like, they'd hardly _spoken_ all week. Steve wouldn't just waltz into Bucky's bedroom tonight without asking first.

Would he?

Bucky chewed it over while he unpacked. He still hadn't come to a conclusion on the issue when he went out into the hall to use the bathroom, peering down the open plan space at the metal staircase of death, and hearing the chatting voices from the floor below drift up.

They were busy socialising, Bucky thought. They'd probably be up for hours yet. Nobody would be bothering.

He went to the nearest bathroom to brush his teeth, watching himself in the mirror as he did. He still had his glasses on, but maybe tomorrow he'd try his contacts.

Ugh, the dreaded contacts.

Bucky had never worn contacts while swimming either, not without goggles on. He supposed wearing goggles wasn't very sexy, so maybe he'd have to go without. Or he could try swimming like his grandma had done, and do a breast-stroke only with his head above water.

He rinsed his mouth, and suppressed another yawn.

Plenty of time to debate over contacts tomorrow. Bucky headed back to his room, and he decided to use the lock on his door. It was fair, because he didn't know anybody here, not really. He could use a lock if he wanted to.

Bucky got ready for bed, and when he got in the bed he sank into the most comfortable mattress he'd ever laid on, and fell asleep right away.

Bucky wasn't sure what woke him up later, but it was probably all that wine as he _really_ needed the toilet.

He rubbed at his eyes and dragged himself out of bed. He'd been in such a deep sleep that he stumbled over to his door. He unlocked it and went out into the hallway, still half asleep, and that's when he heard the sounds.

 _Moaning_.

Bucky listened for a moment, confused. There was a hall light on, so Bucky could see that he was alone. The moaning was coming from one of the rooms, but Bucky couldn't quite pinpoint which one.

Somebody, he realised, was _having sex_.

And _noisy_ sex, too.

Bucky stood there in complete shock for a moment, before his bladder reminded him of his urgent need to relieve himself. Bucky went to the bathroom, which was thankfully unoccupied, and shut himself in.

After he'd done what he needed to do and washed his hands, Bucky was marginally more awake.

_Who the hell was having sex?_

Bucky had to go back out in the hall, which meant he'd have to hear the noises again.

Jeez.

He turned off the bathroom light and closed the door. The moaning was still happening, and Bucky didn't want to listen but what could he do?

He walked back to his bedroom, eyeing all the closed bedroom doors along the hall. The noise was definitely Wanda, Bucky decided. Unless another woman was in the house without him knowing.

The question was, who was Wanda having sex with?

Bucky shut himself back in his room, locking the door again. He checked his phone, just to see if Steve had messaged him at all.

There were no new messages from Steve.

Bucky got into bed, pulling the covers up as he gazed up at the ceiling. It wasn't Steve with Wanda, surely? Steve hadn't seemed interested in her that way.

Bucky exhaled quietly. He'd just have to find out tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detective Bucky, on the case! 
> 
> Who do you think is getting jiggy with it? lol


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes swimming

Bucky slept pretty good, which had to be thanks to the wine.

He woke early out of habit, rolling over to grab his glasses and his phone to check his messages. He didn't have any from Steve, or anyone else in the house, and as it was only seven AM on a Saturday he could probably go back to sleep.

And Bucky almost did that, except he suddenly remembered he was _at the beach_ , so he sprang out of bed and pulled back the blinds on his floor to ceiling window.

The sun was up and it was clearly going to be a very warm day. Bucky had a beautiful view of the blue, sparkling ocean and he stared at it in wonder. There weren't any big waves, just a few small ones as the surf rolled in on the stretch of sandy beach.

It was absolutely breathtaking.

Bucky noted the narrow boardwalk that seemed to lead from Steve's house in a mild curve through sand and shrubs all the way down to the beach itself.

Did Steve really have his own private boardwalk to the beach? Bucky had an urge to tear down that boardwalk and run straight into the sea, but he wasn't on vacation with his family, he was here with people he didn't know very well.

Bucky chewed on his lip, staring out the window.

On a whim, he tested the door handle, and it clicked open. There was a small balcony outside and Bucky slid the glass door open so he could peep out.

That's when he noticed that the balcony ran along the entire frontage of the house, with a wider space and seating a little further along.

There was also a set of outside stairs that presumably led down to the pool.

But a lot of other bedrooms had the same balcony, Bucky realised, and he didn't want to suddenly come face to face with somebody else waking up, or doing anything else on their balcony.

He quietly slid his door shut again, and locked it.

So, he thought. What was the protocol here? Was he up too early? Was he supposed to wait around, or would it be okay if he went downstairs?

This all reminded him of the few sleepovers he'd had at friend's houses as a kid; worrying about a different family's routine, and if he'd mess it up by sleeping in too late or waking up too early.

Bucky peered down at the bit of house and patio he could see from his window, going up on his tip toes to see over the balcony ledge. He saw the corner edge of the pool below, and that looked real inviting. Bucky couldn't see anybody, though.

He wondered what he should do.

First things first, he went to the bathroom. He didn't shower, as he was determined to get into the water, pool or sea, he didn't care. He fixed his hair as best he could, then got out a packet of contact lenses.

Bucky deliberated, rubbing his hand on his mouth as he looked at the new lens packet. The last thing he wanted was to lose a contact while swimming.

Stupid unseeing eyes. He'd just have to wear his glasses or go without, he decided, and have the contacts on standby.

And try remember not to pull his squinty I-can't-see face too much, as his sister had always teased him over that face.

So, eyewear decisions made, now he had to find clothes. All of Bucky's brand new purchases had been left in his room, he discovered.

He hadn't noticed the bags lined up by the closet door last night, but he was grateful for whoever had placed them there.

Now he could be swim ready.

Bucky decided, much like job interviews, that he should dress for the job he wanted. Or, the activity he wanted. So he put on a pair of blue and white swim shorts at a modest length of mid thigh. He also put on one of the new shirts, a thin white one. Then he used a large towel to wrap up the other things he'd need: sunglasses, his glasses case, and a set of unopened contacts.

He slipped a new pair of flip flops onto his feet, then dared to unlock and open his bedroom door to gauge the situation outside.

The other bedroom doors were closed, and he didn't know who was still asleep or not, but Bucky definitely heard some sounds downstairs filtering up: a radio, or a TV perhaps.

That meant somebody was awake, and surely that meant Bucky was allowed to go downstairs. He closed his bedroom door behind him and started to tip toe down the hall.

As he approached the metal staircase and looked down it, his vision swam a little and Bucky held onto the hand rail. He hadn't been aware he had a fear of heights.

Or maybe just ridiculous staircases.

Bucky toed off his flip flops and held onto them as he descended carefully down the stairs. Once safely at the bottom, Bucky breathed a sigh of relief, and peered around the corner.

He couldn't see anybody. Maybe Luis or somebody else was in the kitchen area, Bucky wondered. He padded on bare feet through the hall, coming up on the open plan living room.

It had to be a radio, or a phone making the chatter, with Gabe, Luis and Steve all crowded around one of the kitchen benches to listen in.

Bucky stilled for a moment, wondering if he was interrupting. He realised whatever they were listening to sounded like a race, with a constant babble of commentary. Maybe a horse race?

Interesting, Bucky thought.

Something clearly happened in the race that they were happy with, as Luis raised his hands in victory while Steve and Gabe were all smiles while _Bro_ patting each other.

Bucky figured now was a good time to interrupt, when people were in a good mood.

He walked into the room clutching his towel and flip flops to his chest. Steve turned around as he heard Bucky approach, and broke into a smile.

"Oh, hey, Bucky," he said. "You're up early."

Before Bucky could reply, Gabe snickered and said, "Kid's ready to swim."

Bucky felt a little silly, standing there like he needed permission to go swimming. But what else was he supposed to do? Just go without asking, in somebody else's house? Bucky wasn't like that.

"You wanna have breakfast first?" Steve asked him.

Bucky shook his head. "Thank you, but I'm not that hungry yet."

"You should have something," Steve said. "If you have a fruit smoothie, then you can use the pool. Deal?"

Bucky smiled, and nodded his head.

"Any fruits you don't like?" Steve asked.

"No," Bucky said. "Any's fine."

Steve nodded and turned to Luis. "Can you make up a couple smoothies, Luis?"

"No problem, no problem." Luis pocketed his phone and opened a cupboard to bring out a blender. "I'll bring them outside, yeah?"

"Great, thanks." Steve walked off and gestured for Bucky to follow him. He was dressed in shorts and a shirt too, so Bucky was glad he'd picked the same things to wear.

"Have you put on your sun tan oil?" Steve asked, leading Bucky out the open glass doors.

"Not yet," Bucky said, hurrying to keep up with Steve's long strides. "I think I left it in my room."

"If you want to swim, you'll need a waterproof sun oil, Bucky."

Outside, the pool area was shaded by the overhang of the house, with a white column supporting the far corner. The sun wasn't overhead yet, so it shone directly onto the sunloungers lined up by the pool's edge.

Steve went over to a table that was further back from the pool, in the shade. He picked up a bottle of sun oil and offered it to Bucky.

"Here. This is a spray one," he said. "So it's easier to apply. Also it's quick drying and waterproof."

"Thanks." Bucky took the bottle, giving it a cursory glance before he looked up at Steve. "Are you swimming?"

Steve smiled at him. "No. Maybe later. Let me you a quick tour. The hot tub's over here..."

"Hot tub?" Bucky dumped all his stuff onto the table and followed Steve across the smooth patio stone.

He showed Bucky to the far edge of the pool, by the corner of the house, where there was a little sunken hot tub separate from the pool.

"The controls are over here," Steve explained, showing Bucky a control panel on the wall, partially obscured by a potted plant. "It's pretty simple, off and on." He switched it on to demonstrate, and the hot tub bubbled to life.

Bucky nodded, too thrilled to speak as he watched the bubbles frothing up the water. There were a few more massive potted plants and succulents nearby, giving the hot tub a sense of privacy and the feel of a tropical climate.

"Pool's heated," Steve went on, now gesturing at the big, L-shaped pool before them. "Steps are right here, and the deep end's down that way."

"Okay," Bucky said, giving Steve an amused smile. "I have my swimming badge, don't worry."

Steve laughed at that, and Bucky felt pleased for making him laugh. "Luis has some inflatables," he said, strolling back under the shade of the overhang. "He'll bring them out shortly."

Bucky's inner child was beyond excited, but he managed to maintain his composure. "Great," he said, following Steve and eyeing up the pool. He was eager to get in right away.

"This is a good time to swim," Steve said, swiping up the sun oil spray again. "Don't be out in the sun at midday, alright? It's too hot. And, besides, we'll have lunch then."

Bucky nodded, his eyes on the bottle in Steve's hand. Steve appeared to be waiting, and Bucky looked up to see a sly smirk on Steve's face.

"Want me to spray your back?" he offered.

Oh, Bucky thought. Steve wanted to rub sun tan lotion on his back?

Bucky's fingers were quicker than his words, and he began unbuttoning his shirt before he'd even managed to say, "Okay."

Steve waited while Bucky removed his shirt and then turned around. Bucky felt too shy to make eye contact, but he was quietly thrilled at the offer.

"It might be a bit cold," Steve warned, before spritzing his back.

Bucky shivered in surprise when the cool lotion touched his skin but then Steve's warm hand was there too, rubbing it over Bucky's back in smooth, lingering strokes.

Bucky held his breath and tried to think un-sexy thoughts, because suddenly he felt hot and all the blood in his body was headed south.

"There you go," Steve said, sounding very casual about it all as he finished up and offered the bottle to Bucky. "Make sure you get everywhere, including your face, before you go in, okay? You don't want to get sun burn."

"Okay," Bucky forced out, his throat all tight.

His shorts were pretty tight too, but he was hoping Steve wouldn't notice that. If he did, he didn't say anything, and he left Bucky alone to finish off the application.

Bucky glanced over at Steve to check where he was, and saw he'd gone to sit on a lounger all the way over in the shade. He had his phone out and his sunglasses on. Bucky wondered how long he'd stay there, or if he'd see Steve much today.

Bucky finished with the sun oil and left the bottle on the table. He removed his glasses and put them safely away in their case.

Time to swim and cool off.

As he had the pool all to himself, Bucky trotted over to the deep end and jumped right in, making a glorious splash. He swam around for a while, totally in love with the pool and the water temperature.

Luis brought out a tray of fruit smoothies, serving one to Steve at his chair, then bringing one over to the side of the pool for Bucky.

"Thank you," Bucky said, swimming to the edge and hooking his elbows onto the stone. His drink had a straw, so Bucky was able to sip it easily. His vision was pretty blurry in general, but he could just about make things out.

"I'll go get the inflatables," Luis mentioned. "Got some new ones, they're fun."

"Cool," Bucky said, as Luis rushed away. He tended to rush, Bucky had noticed. Like he was excited or had a lot of energy.

He sipped his drink and waited for these inflatables to appear.

"Can you see without your glasses?" Steve called over.

"Sort of." Bucky shielded his eyes with one hand, trying to focus on Steve in the shade. "Stuff's a bit blurry."

"Have you got contacts?" Steve asked.

"I do, but I thought they'd just come out in the water."

"Maybe you need goggles," Steve said, as Luis and Gabe appeared, dragging a whole bunch of colorful plastic with them.

"Which one first?" Luis asked, looking over to Steve.

"Let Bucky pick," Steve replied.

Bucky couldn't exactly see, and he squinted at the array of not yet inflated plastics. "Um, what you got?"

"I got a chair," Luis explained, "a ring, another chair and a flamingo."

"A ring sounds fun," Bucky said.

"Ring, right." Luis grabbed the ring and set it up with an air pump.

"I'm doing this flamingo," Gabe said, setting up his own pump.

Bucky kicked his feet in the water, bobbing up and down in the pool as he clung to the side and waited for the inflatables.

This was fun, he decided. A lot better than spending the weekend in the city on his own, anyway.

Luis and Gabe had a race to inflate, though Gabe struggled with the flamingo. Luis got the ring ready first and tossed it into the pool.

"Thank you!" Bucky called out, and swam over to grab the ring. He thought it'd be easy to get in, but the damn thing was slippery with water so he fell off it a couple times.

Luis blew up a chair and tossed that in, then helped Gabe with the awkward flamingo.

"After all that effort," Gabe complained once the flamingo was inflated, "it's tiny. What does it even do?"

"It's decorative, man," Luis said. "Look, it stands up on the water." He tossed the flamingo in. Both men stood at the pool side and watched the flamingo tip over on the water and stay flat on its side. Bucky hid a snicker behind his hand, while sitting in his new favorite inflatable chair.

"Bah!" Gabe waved his hand. "Forget it. I'm going in the hot tub."

"Don't forget your sun tan oil," Steve said calmly from his shady spot.

"I don't need factor two hundred like you," Gabe quipped.

Clint came out on the patio, stretching and yawning dramatically.

"And why are you up so early?" Steve questioned.

"I'm not," Clint yawned. He only wore a pair of long shorts, and sunglasses on his face as he headed straight to a sunlounger in the sunny spot. "Going back to sleep."

"You should put on some sun oil," Steve told him, but Clint either didn't hear him as he settled into the lounger, or he fell fast asleep.

"Clint, I'm serious," Steve called over.

Silence from Clint, and Bucky watched with interest as Steve gestured to Gabe that he had to deal with Clint. Gabe got a grin on his face as he picked up the sun tan oil and crept over to Clint, then started spraying over Clint's exposed parts; chest, arms and legs.

Clint only grunted mildly, which had Bucky thinking maybe he really did fall asleep.

"Write something on his belly," Luis suggested.

"No, thank you." Gabe chuckled. "I'm not touching him." He finished spraying Clint down, then dusted off his hands. "And now I am getting in that hot tub."

The next few hours were spent very peacefully, with the four of them lounging poolside, and Luis coming by every so often with fresh drinks.

A radio inside the house played easy listening music, the noise filtering outside and mixing in with the beach noises in the distance.

The sun was just perfect, but it was getting hotter. Bucky sat in his inflatable chair to soak up the sunshine, taking breaks in the water to cool off.

As the sun got higher, it cast more shade on the overhang so Steve was able to move closer to the pool, which meant Bucky could see him a little clearer. He seemed busy on his phone a lot of the time, even taking a couple calls, and Bucky couldn't really tell where Steve was looking because of the dark sunglasses, but Steve did smile at him a couple times.

Bucky only blushed and smiled back before splashing about again. He wondered if Steve would swim later, when the sun wasn't as hot. Or, maybe he'd go into the hot tub.

Bucky had to stop that train of thought in its tracks or he'd get excited, and swim shorts weren't useful for hiding anything.

Lukcily there was a distraction for him when Pietro strolled out, dressed in shorts, tank top and sneakers. He seemed to be doing some warm up stretches on the patio as he stopped to chat with Gabe, now sitting on a lounger. Bucky wondered if Pietro was going for a run somewhere.

Wanda strolled out next, in a big floppy sunhat, and wearing a flowing chiffon shirt over a tiny red bikini.

Bucky squinted to see. He wasn't sure if it was the same red bikini Clint had been so shifty about buying yesterday, but it certainly looked like it.

Wanda said a quiet good morning as she headed to the sunloungers poolside, magazine and colorful beach bag in hand.

Bucky noticed the guys, Gabe and Luis especially, staring a little too much at Wanda in her bikini. Pietro seemed to notice too, as he grumbled something at Gabe and Luis that had both men raising their hands in placating gestures. Pietro didn't like guys staring at his sister, perhaps? Bucky looked over at Steve to see what he was doing, but he was engrossed with his phone and not looking at Wanda or anyone else.

Interesting, Bucky thought.

Steve didn't nag Wanda about sun tan oil either, but Bucky saw that once Wanda had spread out her towel on a lounger next to Clint and sat down, she had her own bottle of oil and began rubbing it onto her legs.

Then Bucky saw something interesting, and being in the pool he was probably the only one able to see it. Clint, who had either just woken up or had never been asleep, wiggled his foot over to Wanda and brushed it up her leg.

Wanda didn't seem surprised by the action. In fact, Bucky almost thought she might be smiling, but because he couldn't see details terribly well, he couldn't be sure.

If Bucky had been a betting man, he would've put down a bet that it was Wanda and Clint he'd heard last night.

Bucky looked over at Pietro, still talking with Gabe and Luis; the slight over staring at his sister apparently forgotten. Bucky wondered if Pietro knew about Wanda and whoever it was she was quietly seeing.

Bucky didn't have long to ponder, as Steve came over (daring to step out into the sun for a moment) and told Bucky that as it was lunch soon, he should come dry off before they went inside.

The sun was getting hot, and Bucky had already been out for a long time. He had one final splash about in the deep end before he swam over to the shallow end where the steps were.

Once he felt the tiles at his feet, Bucky stood in the water and wiped the excess droplets back from his face and hair. He walked to the steps, getting a surprise when he looked up and noticed Steve standing on the patio, waiting for him with a smile.

Bucky's eyes were a bit sore from the chlorine, and things were a bit blurry anyway, but it seemed Steve was also holding a towel ready for him.

"You okay?" Steve asked, as Bucky hesitated in the water.

"Uh, yeah," Bucky said.

"Ready to come out?" Steve grinned at him, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head.

Bucky nodded.

Now he was over his surprise, he was curious to see what Steve did next. Bucky walked through the water up to the steps and grabbed the hand rail, pulling himself out of the water and onto the patio.

Bucky watched Steve's reaction and noticed his eyes flick down, looking at Bucky's body. Bucky didn't mind exactly, though he was a little self conscious being a thin weed compared to Steve and everyone else here who was clearly ripped.

But they did work in a gym, and Bucky did not. He had abs but only because he was on the thin side, and he was well aware of that.

The moment of feeling awkward was over quickly, as Steve wrapped the large fluffy towel around Bucky's shoulders, covering him up.

"Here," he said, giving Bucky a warm smile. "Sit in the sun for a few minutes and dry off. Lunch is almost ready."

Bucky nodded, and Steve's hand squeezed his shoulder in an affectionate way before he headed inside the house. Bucky still felt the impression of Steve's hand on him, and hugged the towel about himself as he went to find a free sunlounger.

Today was turning out kind of nice, he thought, as he sat in the sun and let it dry him off.

He was still hoping Steve might go swimming with him later, or maybe sit in the hot tub.

He'd have to wait and see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, folks! I hope you're enjoying the story so far!
> 
> I'm excited for the beach house weekend chapters, this being the first one. And I hope they will show more layers and sides to the characters that you want to see. I think you got a few hints in this chapter. More will unfold soon!  
> Thank you for reading my wip


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky drops some eaves...

After he'd dried off in the sun and put his shirt back on, Bucky was so ready to eat. And lunch was quite the event, he was pleased to discover.

No mere sandwiches served; there was basically an entire feast laid out on the dining table. Luis had prepared so many different platters of food Bucky didn't know where to start first. Bean salads, crunchy vegetables and greens Bucky didn't know all the names for. Chips and dips, cold meats and cheeses arranged in pretty patterns on their plate.

Then Luis brought out the piece de resistance: mini hamburgers in soft, chewy bread buns with a sweet glaze on top. Bucky ate five of those alone because they were so delicious.

"You've worked up quite the appetite," Steve commented, smiling at Bucky across the table.

Bucky felt embarrassed for having eaten so much, lost in his own little world for a while there, but then Gabe, seated next to Steve, gestured at Clint and scoffed. "So what's Barton's excuse? He's like a pig in a trough any time, any day."

Bucky glanced to his side, where Clint was seated and helping himself to seconds and thirds much like Bucky.

"Gotta keep up my strength," Clint retorted, shovelling food into his mouth.

Across the table, Gabe and Luis shared a pointed side eye, while Steve tactfully looked away.

Bucky didn't understand the context; perhaps an ongoing joke that he wasn't aware of yet. Or maybe it was about last night with Wanda, who knew.

Wanda herself was still outside in the sun, having elected to eat a salad on her sunlounger. Pietro was eating with them but had gone into the kitchen to refill the water jug.

Bucky decided to follow Steve's example, and tactfully minded his own business. There was plenty of interesting food still left on his plate anyway.

Steve's phone pinged, and Bucky glanced up as Steve read whatever message he had.

"Hm. Well." Steve looked to Gabe. "Phillips says he's on his way now."

"Now?" Gabe sounded surprised. "I thought he was coming later?"

Steve made a face that said, what can you do.

"A'ight." Gabe wiped his mouth with a napkin then got up from the table. He walked off down the hall, into the part of the house Bucky hadn't seen yet.

"Clint," Steve said, while tapping away on his phone, "before you slip into a food coma, take Pietro and go wait at the end of the drive for Phillips. Make sure he finds the house okay."

Clint had his mouth full of food, but he nodded his head. He grabbed one final burger as he got up from the table. "Do I need to put on a shirt?" he said, indicating his still bare chest. Steve glanced up from his text to fix Clint with A Look, and Clint retreated quickly. "I'll get a shirt," he said, shoving the hamburger in his mouth. "Pietro," he called. "Go fetch me a shirt and meet me outside."

Bucky watched quietly from his spot, and noticed Steve shake his head minutely.

"Hey, boss," Luis asked Steve quietly, "do you want any food left out, or shall I clear this now?"

"Um..." Steve looked at the table spread, then his phone started ringing. "Damn," he muttered. "Yeah, clear it away, Luis. It'll only go bad in the heat if it's left out." He got up from the table as he took the call. "Yeah," he said, voice changing quickly to something abrupt and measured that Bucky hadn't heard before. "Yeah, I know," Steve said, walking away as he talked.

Wherever he was going, he followed the same route into the house Gabe had taken.

Luis started clearing the table of the dirty plates first, and Bucky decided now was as good a time as any to start prying somebody for information.

"Thank you for lunch, Luis," he said, picking up his own plate.

Luis shot him a friendly smile. "You like the burgers, yeah? I made them by hand."

"Yeah, they were amazing." Bucky smiled back, and handed over his dirty plate when Luis gestured for it.

Bucky was determined to help, so when Luis took the stack of dirty plates to the kitchen area, Bucky grabbed a couple of the food dishes and brought them over.

"Does Phillips work for Steve, too?" Bucky asked, setting his dishes onto the counter.

Luis glanced at him briefly, busy loading up a small dishwasher. "Phillips? No, man. Phillips is a court judge in the city."

Huh, Bucky thought.

"So, they're friends?" Bucky hedged.

"I think the term is associate," Luis said with a grin. "But don't go asking any of them that, and don't tell anyone you seen them together. This sort of meeting is usually on the down low, you know what I'm saying?"

"Why is it on the down low?" Bucky asked.

"There's some big stuff going down in a few weeks," Luis said quietly. "Trials, appeals, it's all happening, man. Basically there was this guy," Luis went on, not taking a breath, "he sort of used to work with Steve, and he did some bad shit, right? And then he got caught, and he fingered a lot of people, hoping it'd get him off but it didn't, and instead he pissed off _everybody_ in the process, making Steve look bad too. So now this guy has an appeal coming up, and more guys who were involved or got dragged into it have trials at around the same time. But don't tell Steve I told you anything, man, it's a stressful situation, you know?"

"Oh," Bucky said, surprised at the veritable tidal wave of information. "No, of course not, I won't say anything."

"Good man." Luis slapped him lightly on the arm, and Bucky realised he'd just gotten his first _Bro_ pat.

Bucky smiled.

"You wanna help me clear the rest of that table?" Luis asked him, and Bucky nodded. "Good, good, good." Luis gestured for Bucky to follow him. "Last time I saw Judge Phillips, he was sending me down for B and E, so I'd rather split before he gets here."

"Seriously?" Bucky asked, helping Luis grab the rest of the lunch plates. "Did you go to jail?"

"Yeah, man." Luis chuckled. "That's how I met Scotty, he was my cellmate. He said if I came and worked for his boss, for Steve, they'd get me a reduced sentence no problem."

"Oh," Bucky said, carrying food dishes over to the kitchen. "That was... nice of them."

"Yeah, my lucky day." Luis tossed him a roll of saran wrap. "Let's get this done quick."

"You got it." Bucky opened the roll of plastic and started covering the dishes with leftover food, so Luis could pack them away in the refrigerator.

They finished up in record time, Luis giving Bucky another _Bro_ pat on the back in thanks. Bucky decided to pat him back, albeit very gently.

His first _Bro_ pat exchange.

Bucky liked Luis. They chatted about what to eat for dinner while Bucky had a soda at the counter, and Luis arranged some clean glass tumblers onto a tray.

"Are those for Phillips?" Bucky asked, gesturing at the tray.

"Yeah, man," Luis said. "He's a Scotch drinker. We get 'em out just in case."

"So where's the Scotch?"

"Lounge." Luis pointed off down the hall that both Steve and Gabe had disappeared into. "Listen, I'm gonna take my bike, go visit a friend of mine while they have this meeting. I'll be back for dinner."

"How long do the meetings last?" Bucky asked.

Luis shrugged. "They're usually fast, but I don't know, man. With all this trial stuff, could be longer."

"Right," Bucky said, looking down at the tray as Luis went to pick it up. "Hey, Luis?" Bucky stopped him from taking the tray. "I can take this to Steve, I want to ask him something anyway."

"Oh, sure, sure." Luis nodded. "I'll see you later, man."

"Later." Bucky smiled, holding onto the tray. Luis headed out the front door, and Bucky carefully carried the tray of glasses down the hallway.

The bright sunlight from the windows lit the way, and Bucky noticed more colorful artworks hanging on the walls as he walked past. He had to be careful not to wobble his tray, and keep his eyes ahead.

There were way more rooms here than Bucky had anticipated, but luckily he heard Steve's deep voice carry as he was talking, presumably to Gabe. Bucky slowed his steps, noting the tone and pitch of Steve's voice compared to Gabe's.

"All I'm saying is," Gabe said clearly, then went quieter that Bucky couldn't make it out.

"I know that," Steve replied, sounding annoyed. "But you know what this means, right?"

Gabe responded, but too quietly for Bucky to make out. He rounded a corner, coming upon a good sized, cosy lounge. Gabe was sitting in a chair, while Steve was standing with his back to Bucky.

Bucky paused, feeling like he'd walked in on something he shouldn't have. Gabe met his eyes, and Steve must've noticed as he turned around.

"Bucky," he said, his voice several notes softer than before. "Here, let me take that."

Steve strode forward to take the tray from Bucky's hands, and now Bucky had nothing to do except stand on the spot and feel awkward. He watched Steve set the tray down onto a coffee table, and he noticed the array of whiskey (presumably whiskey, as they were all in fancy decanters). Clearly this was where the meeting was going to take place, and there was no way they'd want Bucky to hang around to hear that, he figured.

Thinking quickly, Bucky said, "Steve? I just wanted to ask first, but would it be rude if I went upstairs and took a nap? I'm kind of tired."

Steve looked at him with a note of surprise, then smiled. "Sure, Bucky. You don't have to ask. Treat this house as your own, okay?"

Bucky smiled at that, but he noticed Gabe make a subtle face at the remark: just a widening of the eyes as he exhaled. Bucky recognised that face from among his own family, around the table at awkward dinnertimes. It was the subtlest form of _I wholeheartedly disagree_ that someone could get away with in public.

Interesting, he thought.

Steve hadn't seen it, as he was facing away from Gabe, and Bucky made sure to keep his smile in place. "Thank you," he said. "I'll see you later, then?"

"Yeah, great," Steve said, sounding all casual now. "This won't take too long, just some business to take care of."

Bucky nodded his head, looking Steve in the eye to show he was listening. "I'll see you later," he said politely, then excused himself to leave.

It was a relief to escape the room, Bucky thought, as he walked briskly back the way he'd come.

And he hadn't been lying, he really did need a nap. He'd been awake early and swimming all morning. Except now his anxiety was making an appearance again, and Bucky knew that sleep would be hard now.

Still, he didn't want to be downstairs when a stranger showed up, and he didn't have many other options. Next time he'd ask Luis if he could go with him.

When Bucky got back to the open plan area, he went outside to retrieve his things. Luis had already cleared away the used towels, so Bucky just had his glasses case, contacts and flip flops to grab.

Wanda was still outside on the sunlounger, presumably asleep. Bucky couldn't see much of her face under the sunhat.

She'd lost the chiffon shirt now, sunbathing in just the bikini, so Bucky made sure he didn't stare, as that would be rude of him.

He walked over the patio as quietly as he could and picked up his stuff.

"Hey, new boy," Wanda said, making Bucky start with surprise.

Bucky turned around to look at her, but she hadn't moved a muscle. He hadn't imagined the voice, had he?

"Yes?" he said, unsure.

"Would you bring me a bottle of water from the fridge," Wanda said, accent heavy.

Bucky noted it wasn't phrased like a question, but he wondered if that was her accent rather than her manners.

Still, not acknowledging him until now seemed a bit odd.

"Sure," he said, because he'd grown up with a sister who also thought she was a queen and everyone else her mere servants, and Bucky had decided a long time ago that he had bigger things to stress over. "Still or sparkling?" he asked.

The corner of Wanda's mouth twitched, like she was fighting a smile.

"Still," she said.

Bucky didn't say anything else, he just went back inside, dumped his stuff on the counter and opened the refrigerator.

If this had been Becca, he thought with a smile, he would've opened the water bottle, drank some and spat it back inside before serving it to her with a smile. Because that's what sisters got for being annoying.

But Wanda hadn't wound him up (yet), and Bucky wanted more allies in this place than enemies. So, he picked out an unopened bottle of water, and took it outside to Wanda.

"Here," he said, depositing the bottle onto the little table beside her lounger.

"Thank you," she replied, which surprised Bucky.

"No problem," he said, and walked away again. He knew when to leave girls alone, and sunbathing was definitely one of those times.

Of course, if she'd been Becca, Bucky would've gone up to the next floor, opened a window and dropped some cold water onto her.

He smiled to himself as he gathered up his things, including a water bottle for himself, and headed upstairs. Funny how he kept thinking of his sister. They didn't even get along that great, not lately. Not since their dad dying, and Becca having her baby shortly after.

Maybe Bucky should send her a text or something. He usually just spoke to mom, not Becca directly.

Or, maybe he could buy a new gift for the baby. His nephew. Then he wouldn't need to talk to Becca and they wouldn't end up having the same arguments they always had.

Bucky shut himself in his room and took a shower to wash the chlorine off his skin. He had the upstairs all to himself, so he made the most of it. Actually it was very tempting to open all the bedroom doors and see whose bedroom was whose, but Bucky didn't dare. He was just tempted, that was all.

He especially wanted to see Steve's bedroom.

Then again, maybe that would make him more anxious once he had; if he knew what was waiting for him in there, instead of just imagining it.

What if Steve had black satin bedsheets, or something really cheesy like that? And if Bucky knew that but Steve didn't know he knew it, how would Bucky ever keep a straight face again?

No snooping, he told himself.

He got dressed into more new clothes: patterned shorts, a plain pastel blue shirt. His hair was a mess, and Bucky being an idiot had forgotten his expensive new hair product.

So now he had to go snooping around the _multiple_ bathrooms upstairs, hoping somebody had left some product in a cupboard that he could borrow a bit of.

Bucky hadn't realised there were three bathrooms upstairs. He couldn't believe it, honestly.

The one nearest his bedroom (and he suspected Wanda's bedroom also) had a huge array of hair and feminine products dotted about. Also a huge box of condoms that was already open, and Bucky's eyes went wide when he spotted it in the cupboard.

That was a lot of condoms.

Bucky quickly closed the cupboard back up, and went back to the hair product search. He found a bit of hair wax, and was going to presume it was Clint's, or maybe Luis's.

He'd just finished running it through his hair and was washing his hands when he heard voices downstairs; sounded like people coming in the front door.

Bucky tip toed out to the hallway, not peering over the side but just listening. The loudest voice had a familiar southern drawl, something Bucky recognised from knowing people back home. He listened to the guy, presumably Judge Phillips, speak loudly, and Bucky guessed he was from Texas, or somewhere around there from the accent.

The voices receded, and Bucky figured they were all heading into their secret whiskey lounge to have their meeting. It was strange, Bucky thought, that a judge was even meeting with a loan shark at all. In secret.

But, really, it wasn't so strange: it was plain to see that whatever was going on wasn't above board, and the realisation creeping onto the edge of Bucky's consciousness was that Steve wasn't just a loan shark. There was clearly something more going on.

And the more he thought about that, the more things started to make sense to Bucky. All signs pointed to organised criminal activity, with Steve being in charge of a lot of those.

So if that was the case, would Bucky get into trouble for associating with Steve? Because he hadn't thought of that before, but now he was a little concerned.

Bucky went back into his bedroom and closed the door, locking it too. His throat felt dry, a lump there when he tried to swallow. He opened his water bottle and drank some down.

He was nervous, and Bucky hated being in the dark about things. It made him nervous not knowing all the facts, and it also made him nervous knowing there was people downstairs talking about stuff they probably shouldn't be talking about.

He felt like a little kid again, hiding on the staircase to listen to his dad talking to whatever shady characters came around late at night.

_Stairs._

Bucky remembered the outside steps leading down to the pool. He knew he probably shouldn't, but...

He unlocked his balcony door and peeped outside. Nobody around. Everybody in the house was either downstairs or outside, not in their bedrooms.

Bucky went out onto the balcony, tip toeing in bare feet. Then he realised he was being ridiculous sneaking about, when he could just walk right over to the table and chairs area like he was minding his own business.

Bucky gripped his water bottle tight, eyes ahead and decidedly not looking at the glass doors to each bedroom along the balcony as he walked past. He reached the table area, on the largest portion of the balcony. Bucky kept his back to the bedrooms, and went to the edge to lean over.

It was only a thin glass panel between him and a ten foot drop, although the pool was now directly below him.

That meant Wanda was too. Bucky peered over carefully, and saw Wanda's pale feet sticking out under the overhang. She was still in the same place. That was good.

Bucky glanced over to the right, where the outside steps were. They were literally just steps, with gaps in between. If Wanda happened to look over she'd see him going down them, but with any luck she would be dozing in the sun.

Bucky glanced behind him at the bedrooms, most of which had their blinds and drapes pulled closed to protect against the sun. Maybe it would be safer to snoop in the bedrooms, if he was going to snoop at all.

 _You just want to see Steve's bedroom_ , said a little voice in the back of his mind. Maybe he did, Bucky thought.

What would he have in there anyway? A smoking gun? _Come on, Bucky_ , he chastised himself, _stop being dramatic._

He'd get into a lot more trouble if he got caught inside someone else's bedroom anyway. It was a dumb idea. Besides, he was way more interested in this meeting that was going on downstairs.

Bucky tried to remember the layout downstairs, figuring out where the room was below him. Probably near his bedroom or toward the front somewhere, but unless he could find a window or air vent, he wouldn't hear anything.

"No, don't do it," he muttered to himself, and walked back to his bedroom. He went inside and tossed the water bottle to his bed. He paced the small room a couple times before realising he'd already made up his mind. "You're a dumbass," he told himself, leaving through the open door again.

Bucky went on tip toe down the steps, quickly as he could. He really hoped Wanda was asleep. As soon as he reached the patio ground, Bucky walked briskly around the side of the house, out of sight of the sunloungers.

This was so reckless, he thought, hurrying past more floor to ceiling glass windows. What if someone saw him?

He'd need an excuse. A very good excuse.

Bucky rounded the house, walking on a narrow path past thick shrubs. This side of the house was on the highest point of the hill, and had a lot of wild shrubbery concealing Bucky from the house next door. Thank God.

Now he found walls with regular sized windows, and Bucky's heart was in his throat.

This was a bad idea, this was a bad idea.

Bucky heard the voices before he located the window they came from: a small one cracked open to let in a breeze. Bucky crept along the wall and crouched underneath the window, willing his heart to quiet down the thudding in his ears so he could listen in.

"...make an example," came the voice with the Texan drawl. "You know I got your back."

"I know, and I agree," replied a quieter voice. It sounded like Steve. "We need to send a message."

"I can think of a stronger message," added another voice. Gabe, perhaps?

"Y'all do what you gotta do," Phillips replied. "Like before."

"We'll take care of it," Steve said.

"As long as it won't lead back to me," Phillips chortled, "I don't care what happens to those sons of bitches."

More chortles and light laughter joined Phillips, like this was all amusing to them.

Bucky felt frozen stiff, unsure if he was processing what he heard correctly. Were they... were they talking about setting somebody up, or...

Or worse?

"Are you staying for lunch?" Steve asked, oh so casual.

"Nah," Phillips said. "But thanks. Going fishing on the lake then I gotta take the wife to dinner."

"I appreciate you coming out here," Steve told him.

Shit, Bucky thought, the meeting was over already? He had to get the fuck out of here.

Bucky hurried back the way he'd come, tip toeing over the narrow path. He came around the corner, back poolside, and looked over to the sunloungers.

Wanda wasn't there.

Bucky felt panic grip him, but he reasoned she'd probably gone inside the house for something. He should scram before she got back.

He dashed to the steps, hurrying up them as quickly and as quietly as he could.

When he got to the top, he wanted to run to his room and shut himself in there, but he started in alarm when he saw Wanda standing on the balcony. She had her sunglasses on, so he couldn't see her expression, but she was facing him.

"Where have you been?" she asked calmly.

Oh, shit, Bucky thought, but forced himself to remain calm as he flipped through his mental list of excuses. "Dropped my sunglasses over the balcony," he replied, throwing in a casual shrug for good measure. "They looked expensive, so I went to look for them."

Wanda's blank expression didn't change, and Bucky wasn't sure if she believed him or not.

"And did you find them?" she asked flatly.

Bucky shrugged again. "Not yet. I'll look again later."

"Hm." Wanda tipped her sunglasses down to eye him. "Very strange to drop your sunglasses over there."

"What can I say," Bucky replied, "I'm pretty clumsy." His instincts kicked in then (years of being sold out by his bratty sister to their parents) so he went on the offensive and said, "Nice bikini, by the way. I was there when Clint picked it out for you."

Wanda stared at him silently, but Bucky thought he saw a note of surprise flit across her face.

He smiled sweetly at her. "Clint has good taste."

"Hm," Wanda said, sliding her sunglasses back on.

Bucky wasn't sure if their standoff was over, but someone called his name from the ground and Bucky was grateful for the interruption. He looked down, saw Steve at the bottom of the steps waving up at him.

"I thought you were napping?" he called up.

Bucky plastered a big smile on his face. "I guess not!" he called back down.

"You wanna see the beach?" Steve offered, gesturing to the ocean in the distance.

"Sure!" Bucky agreed, if only to get away from Wanda right now.

He ran inside his room to grab his phone, because he didn't want to leave it where anyone could go in and snoop on it. Then he had to manoeuvre around Wanda to get to the steps.

As he did, she said quietly, "I'm watching you, new boy."

Bucky raised his eyebrows at her minutely. "Well, have fun with that," he retorted, then instantly wished he hadn't when he saw Wanda's lips purse in annoyance.

Shit, he had to be more careful. So much for having an ally.

He hurried down the steps, away from Wanda and toward Steve, who gave him a big smile as he reached the ground.

"Don't you want your flip flops?" Steve asked, glancing down at Bucky's bare feet.

"Um, I'm okay," Bucky said, not wanting to go back upstairs. "Let's just go."


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all. I just wanted to say thank you for leaving me nice comments on this fic. I go through and read them when I have days doubting myself, so thanks for being supportive. 
> 
> There's so many fun parts in this story I can't wait to get to, I'm like vibrating with excitement over here.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> ~~

After strolling along the private and narrow board walk, Bucky jumped off the end onto soft, golden sand.

"Oh!" he said in surprise, digging his toes in. "It's hot!"

Steve chuckled in amusement as he stepped onto the sand beside him. He had boat shoes on. "Yeah, only on the surface. We're lucky some cloud came in, or I wouldn't be out here at all."

Bucky glanced up at the sky, shielding his eyes against the bright sunshine. It was currently behind some big fluffy white clouds, but it was still very warm.

"Why?" Bucky asked, hurrying over the sand to catch up with Steve as he strolled along.

"Why? Because I'd turn lobster pink," Steve said, making Bucky laugh.

"Is that why you want everyone to wear their sun tan?" Bucky asked.

"Well, that's just common sense." Steve smiled at him, pushing his sunglasses up into his floppy hair to stop the wind whipping it about.

Bucky smiled back at him, then felt a bit shy so he looked away, out to the ocean. "Is that the Atlantic?" he asked.

"Yeah, north Atlantic," Steve replied, then gestured down one side of the beach. "Montauk is this way, New York is back that way. This little part we're on is called Beach Hampton, but it's basically in East Hampton."

"It's real nice," Bucky said. "How long have you had the house?"

"Not that long, actually." Steve rubbed a hand over his beard. "About three years? I knew the previous owner and they wanted to sell."

Bucky glanced back at the house, with only the top half visible behind the sandy dunes. He wondered how much it had been to buy, or how much any of the houses were down here. There were a few nearby, some neighbors. The houses were all different designs, some more traditional looking than Steve's modern home, and some even kookier.

"Do you come up here often?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah, pretty often," Steve replied. "Why? You planning on throwing a party while I'm away?"

Bucky looked at Steve in surprise, and realised from the smile on his face that he was joking. Bucky grinned, ducking his head. "I don't have enough friends here for a party."

"Hm," Steve replied. "Well, when you do, you can invite them up to the house whenever you want."

Bucky instantly thought of Natasha, and wished she wasn't all the way over in Russia.

"Thanks," he said, though he doubted he'd ever feel comfortable inviting anyone to Steve's house. That clandestine meeting with Judge Phillips was still fresh in Bucky's mind. He figured as soon as he was alone, he'd get to Google and do some research. Find out what was going down.

In the meantime, he'd have to play it cool.

Bucky got out his phone and turned his camera on. He snapped a few shots of the sea, unable to resist the beautiful view. The beach was empty of people, Bucky spotted only two other figures on the beach walking a dog, and they were far away in the distance.

He snapped a few more shots of some cute little birds pecking at the sand by the shoreline, then noticed Steve watching him.

"Sorry," Bucky said, feeling embarrassed for being a tourist.

Steve smiled at him. "Give me your phone. I'll take some of you."

"Oh, no," Bucky said, his shyness returning. "My hair will be such a mess."

"It's not a mess." Steve grinned, holding his hand out. "C'mon. Go stand over by the water."

Bucky handed his phone over, his cheeks heating up, and went to stand where the surf was rolling in, touching his bare toes. "Here?"

"Great." Steve held up Bucky's phone and tapped the screen, taking multiple shots. "Is the auto focus on? Oh, it's not. Hang on..." He frowned in concentration as he tapped the screen again.

Bucky bit his lip to stop from smiling, but as he watched Steve grapple with the camera function a giggle burst out of him.

"Okay, I got it," Steve said, still tapping the screen. "See, my camera auto focuses, that's what I'm used to."

"I think mine does, too?" Bucky replied. He felt self conscious standing still, so he continued walking along the way they'd been heading. When he glanced back at Steve he was following along behind but still taking photos. "Oh, man, that's enough!" Bucky laughed, holding his hand out for the phone. "Please."

Steve smiled as he handed back the phone. "Think I got some good ones there."

Bucky opened the camera roll to inspect Steve's work, pleasantly surprised to see a number of artistic looking shots of himself against the blue sky and water, even some nice shots of him smiling and laughing.

"They are good." Bucky felt his cheeks heat up again being the center of attention, but in a good way. "You want to take one together?" he offered, looking up at Steve.

Steve's smile faded slightly. "Uh, maybe another time, okay?"

Bucky worried he'd said the wrong thing, but he nodded silently and slipped his phone back in his pocket.

They continued walking, quiet for a moment while Steve rubbed at his beard thoughtfully.

"Actually, Bucky," he started, as Bucky's anxiety spiked, "I need to... explain a few things."

"What?" Bucky asked, fearing the worst. Was Steve going to tell him the deal was off, and Bucky wouldn't have his support after all?

"This may seem overly cautious," Steve began, "but I usually try to avoid having photos of myself. I don't have any social media or things like that either."

Oh, Bucky thought, not expecting that.

"Do you post photos to social media?" Steve asked.

"Um, sometimes," Bucky said. "I use Instagram mainly."

"Okay," Steve said gently. "This might seem strange, but it's important, Bucky. I'm going to need you to be very careful about what you post online and when. No photos of me or the other guys, got it?"

Bucky nodded. "I haven't taken any."

"Good," Steve said. "And those ones of you, they're fine, but if you post them anywhere it's got to be after the event. Don't post photos on the day you take them, or it gives away your location. Actually," he went on, "if you take screenshots of your photos, it removes data on the picture about when you took it."

Bucky listened intently, nodding along to show Steve he was taking all this in, while his mind's eye kept flashing with the words _incriminating evidence_ like a big neon sign. Bucky was aware he had an over active imagination, but he also possessed common sense. One thing was clear: Steve didn't want evidence of them together.

"Is this why we ate dinner in the kitchen that time?" Bucky blurted out.

Steve glanced at him, breaking into a smile. "Well, that's where I usually eat at Dugan's, Bucky. It's safer."

"Safer for who?" Bucky asked.

"Well, for you." Steve shrugged. "Me, the guys. Everyone."

"Why?" Bucky asked, then wondered if he shouldn't be probing. Was this because Steve wasn't out, or because of something else?

"Let's just say, experience has taught me to be cautious," Steve said with a smile. "And, honestly, it wouldn't be fair to you to be seen associating with me before we've gotten to know each other. Like you said yourself, Bucky, if you change your mind about our arrangement, if you want to stop spending time with me, then I have to make sure you're able to go about your life as normal again."

"Oh," Bucky said, frowning in thought. That seemed... reasonable? "But why?" he asked, unable to stop himself. "Is this for appearances or for something else?"

Steve's face showed mild surprise before relaxing into his usual, amused smile. "Let me explain it in boxing terms, Bucky. If you want to be the champ, you have to defend your title. Challengers, now they come and go. There's always challengers, it's part of the game. But you fight, you defeat them, and you keep your title. And everyone knows you're still the champ. Understand?"

Bucky nodded slowly. Yes, he understood the analogy. The burning question was, what was Steve referring to? Who were his challengers?

He looked up at Steve, not voicing his question but Steve must've seen it all the same, as he broke into a quiet laugh.

"Bucky, the less you know about it all, the better," Steve told him. "Especially if you have any second thoughts about our arrangement. Trust that I'm looking out for you, okay? I just want you to be safe."

"Okay," Bucky said, still with a hundred questions tumbling around inside his head. He figured there would be a great deal of Googling happening in his near future.

The sea air and Bucky's early morning finally got the best of him, and when he'd started yawning on their beach walk, Steve suggested they go back to the house so Bucky could take his nap.

Bucky didn't argue, as he was suddenly quite tired.

They strolled back up the board walk to the house. Bucky spotted Wanda, Clint and Pietro all lounging outside in the afternoon sun. Clint waved at them, but Wanda and Pietro may have been asleep as they didn't stir. Steve raised a hand to return the wave, walking across the patio and toward the house. Bucky followed him, stifling another yawn.

Steve toed his shoes off by the doors, as they had sand on them, and he gave Bucky a pair of towelled slippers to put on so he didn't trail sand in.

Gabe and Luis were in the kitchen area, chopping food on the counter and chatting. "Hey, guys," Steve greeted them, coming to inspect the food. "Is this dinner?"

"Check it out!" Luis exclaimed excitedly, uncovering a large dish of raw meat cuts. "Gift from Kurt and Dave! I'm going to make kebabs."

"Nice," Steve said, glancing at Bucky. "You like kebabs, Bucky?"

Bucky nodded. "Sure."

"Okay, well, go have your nap," Steve told him, setting a hand onto Bucky's shoulder. "You can join us later for dinner."

"Okay," Bucky repeated, smiling shyly. "See you in a bit." He left Steve chatting with Gabe and Luis as he headed upstairs, yawning again.

Bucky got all the way to his door and tried the handle when he remembered he'd locked it from the inside, and had left via the outside steps.

Ugh, dummy, he told himself. Now what did he do? Go downstairs again and go outside, past Wanda and the others, to get to the steps?

Or...

Bucky looked at the bedrooms near his. One was Wanda's, the other one he wasn't so sure. Clint's? Or maybe Pietro or Luis? Bucky went to the door that wasn't Wanda's, and tried the handle.

It was open.

Well, Steve _had_ said to treat the house as his own.

Bucky opened the door and peeped inside. Nobody there. Everyone was downstairs, he already knew that.

He went inside the room and shut the door after him. The drapes were drawn and the balcony doors were right behind them. Bucky only had to go through them to get outside.

His eyes scanned the bedroom, wondering whose it was. Definitely a guy's, maybe Clint's judging from some clothes strewn haphazardly around the place. Bucky thought he recognised a colorful shirt or two of Clint's.

Bucky's eyes fell upon the nightstand drawer. Top drawers said a lot about people, and Bucky wondered what would be in Clint's nightstand.

He really shouldn't look, but his conversation with Steve on the beach had left him with more questions than before, and Bucky was curious. He darted over to the nightstand and pulled the top drawer open.

Disappointingly, it was empty.

Bucky felt annoyed at that, and he was determined to find something. He went next to the bed, lifting the edge of the mattress.

Nothing there either, but Bucky heard a soft clunk when he'd moved the mattress. He set it back down and looked at the messy bed. Nothing out of the ordinary, but Bucky had definitely heard something.

He lifted up the pillow, starting in surprise when he saw an unusual item: a thick bowie knife in a black leather case.

Interesting, Bucky thought. He picked up the knife to inspect it, sliding it out of the case. The blade was clean, spotless even. No incriminating stains or anything like that.

(Bucky wasn't sure what he would've done if he'd found any suspicious stains, besides have a small heart attack.)

What was the point of keeping a knife under a pillow, anyway? Did Clint or whoever's room this was expect dangerous company in the middle of the night?

Bucky replaced the knife and pillow as he'd found them. He was tempted to look around some more, but his heart was already pounding away and he didn't want to get caught snooping.

He slipped through the drapes and tried the balcony door, already unlocked. That was good, now Clint would never know Bucky had been in his room. He opened the doors and peered out, half expecting to see Wanda waiting there for him like last time, but the coast was clear.

Bucky exited the room and slid the door shut behind him, then casually made his way back to his own room.

He'd left his door open too, but when he got inside he locked it and pulled the drapes shut. Bucky kicked off his slippers and got into the bed, getting comfortable on his side and taking his phone out.

He opened Google.

Bucky knew that he was on Steve's Wi-Fi right now, so he'd have to be careful about what he looked up. Later he'd download an incognito app or something.

His fingers hovered over the keypad as he contemplated what to enter. He'd already done Google searches on Steve, and the only things that'd come up were some boxing history.

Clearly, Bucky had to use some different words or phrases to find what he was looking for. Or, rather, to confirm his suspicions, because Bucky was starting to get a picture of what Steve was involved in.

He could just ask Nat, he thought. But then she'd ask questions herself, so maybe he'd wait for now.

Bucky yawned again, his eyes drooping closed. He typed into Google, _organised crime in Hell's Kitchen_ , and hit enter.

The first result was an excerpt from Wikipedia, and as the text was big Bucky's eyes flitted over the words: _The Westies were a New York City based Irish American organised crime gang, responsible for racketeering, drug trafficking, and contract killing..._

Bucky blinked a couple times. That... did not sound great, he thought, especially the part about drugs and contract killing. Steve wasn't involved in that sort of business, was he? Racketeering, sure; Bucky had seen strong hints of that with his own eyes. Steve was a loan shark, obviously, and he had people like Clint and Pietro do collections for him.

Now Bucky wondered what sort of collections those were. Was it people who owed money on private loans, like himself? Or was it businesses, like Bucky had seen in the movies, when the bad guys would come in and demand money for bogus protection?

That's what racketeering was, after all.

Maybe this was something he could probe Natasha on, Bucky thought. As far as she knew, Bucky had taken out a low interest loan with Steve. It shouldn't arouse too much suspicion if he asked about Steve's business. Bucky could shoot her a text when he got back to his own apartment, and his own Wi-Fi.

He scrolled down the next set of results, a selection of those _people also ask_ questions. Bucky's eyes drooped heavily as he read, _is Hell's Kitchen dangerous_ , _is Hell's Kitchen Irish?_

And, _is Hell's Kitchen staged?_

Bucky tapped on that last one, frowning in confusion as he read about scripted reality TV, before realising that the question was in relation to that Gordon Ramsay show of the same name.

He rubbed at his tired eyes, knocking his glasses askew. He set his phone down and thought, he'd just close his eyes for a moment and finish his Google search later.

The next thing Bucky knew, he opened his eyes and realised it was getting dark.

He'd fallen asleep.

Bucky checked the time on his phone, saw it was nearly eight PM. He'd slept for over four hours, jeez.

First thing he did was put his glasses back on and delete his search history on Google, just in case. Then he straightened himself up, and went downstairs.

Bucky wasn't sure what he'd find, or what other people would be doing when he got downstairs. The only sounds he heard was some very faint music and chatter, like a TV but playing quietly.

He tip toed down the stairs and peered cautiously into the living area. Thankfully, Steve was by the kitchen counter with Clint. They were chatting and both had beers in their hand, looking around when they spotted Bucky. Steve beckoned him over, so Bucky walked over there feeling all shy. Clint didn't hang around; after a quick hi to Bucky, he left, heading down the hallway where the other rooms were.

"Hey." Steve greeted Bucky with a smile. "You alright?"

Bucky nodded sheepishly. "I'm sorry I fell asleep so long."

Steve just grinned. "Don't be sorry, you're on vacation. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah." Bucky was starving, actually.

"Go fetch yourself a drink," Steve instructed him, "and sit at the table."

"Okay." Bucky went over to the refrigerator, figured he'd just have a soda. The caffeine would help. He watched over his shoulder as Steve opened up the oven, taking out a tin foil covered plate. He removed the covering to reveal stacks of cooked kebabs.

Steve noticed Bucky dithering at the refrigerator, but he didn't snap at him to get out of the way, he only smiled as he prepared a large dish of food, presumably for Bucky to eat.

Bucky got his soda, still watching Steve with interest, and went to sit down at the dining table. Steve brought over the plate laden with food, placing it in front of Bucky along with cutlery and a napkin.

"Wow, thank you," Bucky said, gazing at the beautiful kebabs of meat and vegetable cubes, and the accompanying diced potatoes and other seasoned greens on the plate. "This looks great."

"Well, Luis made them." Steve sat at the head of the table with his beer. "But, yes, they're amazing. Eat up."

"Thanks," Bucky said quietly, so in awe of the food that it took him a moment to decide what to eat first. He decided to attack a kebab, using his fork to push the skewered food off the stick and onto his plate.

When he noticed Steve watching him, Bucky felt self conscious.

"Am I doing it wrong?" he asked.

"No." Steve chuckled. "And if you'd seen Clint eat one of these, you wouldn't even ask."

Bucky smiled. "What does Clint do?"

"Shove the whole thing in his mouth and drop it everywhere." Steve took a swig of beer, and got out his phone when it beeped.

Bucky ate his dinner, with Steve quietly drinking his beer and texting on his phone. It was nice, relaxed. Or maybe Bucky was still a bit sleepy.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, finishing his plate.

"Gabe and Pietro are out," Steve replied, "the others are watching a movie in the den."

Bucky hummed in response, sitting back in his chair because his belly was full.

"Want any more?" Steve asked.

"No, I'm good." Bucky shook his head. "That was amazing, but I'm stuffed."

Steve chuckled again. "Another drink then? We got plenty of wine, or I can whip up some margaritas?"

"Um..." Bucky cleared his throat. "I've never had a margarita."

"Well, it's basically tequila," Steve told him.

"I haven't had that either," Bucky admitted.

"Wow, okay." Steve laughed. "Alright, do you like tart flavours? It's a refreshing sort of drink."

Bucky shrugged. "I guess? Sounds interesting."

"I tell you what," Steve said with a smile, "I'll make a couple right now. You can see for yourself."

Bucky found himself smiling back. "Sure."

"We can go watch a movie with the others," Steve suggested, "or we can jump in the hot tub."

Oh, boy, Bucky thought, as he opened his mouth and the words just spilled out. "Hot tub," he said.


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Dready for beta help!
> 
> ~~~

Bucky had gone upstairs to change into his swim shorts and collect a couple of fresh towels as Steve had asked.

He also swapped out his glasses for a set of contacts, standing in front of the bathroom mirror as he put them in.

Bucky was _not_ a fan of contacts, but he couldn't very well sit in a hot tub with steamed up glasses. He got the contacts into his eyes, blinking a few times to check they were okay. Then he looked at himself in the mirror, and at his bare upper body. He had caught the sun a bit today, taking the glaring whiteness off his pale skin tone, but that didn't change the fact he was thin and reedy.

Oh, well, he thought. He couldn't do much about that right now.

He fussed with his hair for a moment, then collected the towels and went back downstairs.

Steve was in the kitchen preparing their drinks. He smiled at Bucky as he approached. "Hey," he said casually. "I put the bubbles on. Go ahead and get in the tub, I'll be right out."

"Okay," Bucky said, and headed toward the doors.

"Oh, leave my towel?" Steve asked, so Bucky left one towel behind on the dining table, then took his own outside with him.

It was dark out, but Steve must've turned some lights on as there was now subtle low lighting all around the pool and also the nearby shrubbery. It looked nice, Bucky thought. He felt like he was at a fancy spa or something.

He padded barefoot over to the hot tub, which was bubbling away enticingly. Nobody else was around, so Bucky tossed his towel on the paving and stepped straight into the hot tub.

The water was perfect, warm but not too hot, and frothy on the top with all the bubbles.

Bucky had never been in a hot tub before, and as he settled inside it he had a good look around to investigate. There was a circular ledge under the water, so presumably a whole bunch of people could sit in the tub all at once. The jets were at the bottom, Bucky felt those with his feet, with a few more on the sides of the tub. He splashed about feeling all the jets, smiling to himself. He liked the tub. This was fun.

Then Steve appeared, carrying a tray of drinks with him. Bucky stopped playing about and sat down, making out like he was a regular adult.

"Margaritas," Steve announced. He set the tray onto the paving, close enough for Bucky to reach.

Bucky counted four separate glasses. "Um, is anyone else joining us?"

Steve chuckled. "No, I just made more than two in case we want more. Saves getting out the tub. I'm just gonna change, I'll be right back."

Bucky nodded, watching Steve return to the house. He looked at the margaritas.

Should he try one? See what it was like before Steve came back?

Bucky leaned up out the tub and cautiously sniffed the drink closest to him. He reeled back slightly at the strong citrus smell going right up his nose. Bucky smothered a cough. He didn't know if he was going to like these drinks or not, but he hoped they tasted better than they smelled.

Bucky decided to wait. He made himself comfortable on the far side of the tub, waving his legs around in the bubbly water.

Steve came back a few moments later, causing Bucky to look up.

And _stare_.

Steve had changed into swim shorts, and that was all he had on. He carried his rolled up towel in hand, giving Bucky a smile as he approached the tub.

If Bucky had felt inadequate about his body before, it paled to how he felt _now_. Steve clearly had a very toned physique; a sculpted upper body, biceps for days, a smattering of dark hair on his chest, and all of that then tapered down to a slim waist.

Bucky knew that if Natasha ever saw Steve, she'd probably call him a thirst trap, and she'd be a hundred percent right about that.

Bucky slid a little lower in his seat so the water came up to his armpits and covered him, because he felt self conscious. Steve, meanwhile, seemed perfectly at ease as he stepped into the hot tub. Bucky couldn't help looking at Steve's legs, also shapely and toned especially his thighs, with a lot of dark hair everywhere.

Bucky wasn't that hairy, and certainly not that toned.

Then he got distracted from ogling Steve's body as Steve placed his towel close by on the paving.

Steve was _very_ careful about his towel, Bucky noticed. And the towel seemed a lot heavier than it should on its own; like something bulky was wrapped inside it.

How strange, Bucky thought.

Steve finally got inside the tub and sat down on the seat, a respectable distance from Bucky. In fact they were pretty much on opposite sides of the tub.

"Drink?" Steve offered.

Bucky thought it would be rude to say no, so he nodded and took the drink Steve handed to him. The glasses had tall stems with wide shallow brims, and Bucky looked at the rim of the glass curiously.

"What's this stuff on the edge?"

Steve grinned as he raised his own glass. "Salt. It's a nice salt, that's why it's all chunky."

"Oh." Bucky inspected his drink. One half of the rim was salted, the other not. There was a wedge of lime resting there too. "What do I do with it?"

"Well, some people like to drink from the salted side," Steve explained, "and some don't. It's your call, but the salt will make the drink seem sweeter."

"Oh," Bucky said, and raised his glass to sip from the salted side. The liquid was strong, but with a zesty flavor. Bucky took a second sip.

Actually, he thought, smacking his lips together thoughtfully, it tasted nice. Refreshing, even.

"What do you think?" Steve asked, lounging back and sipping his own drink.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, it's nice. What's in it?"

"Mostly tequila." Steve chuckled. "Cointreau and lime."

"Coin... what?" Bucky asked.

"Cointreau. It's triple sec," Steve said. "An orange flavoured liquor," he added, when Bucky just stared at him blankly.

"Oh, right." Bucky took another big sip. "I think I like it."

"Great." Steve went to set down his glass, almost putting it near his towel then changing his mind and setting the glass down on his other side instead.

Then he fiddled with the towel and Bucky had to ask, "Steve, what've you got over there?"

"What?" Steve stopped fiddling and turned back to him with a smile. "Nothing. Just my phone."

Bucky didn't believe that for a second, and he got the feeling Steve was teasing him. "No, seriously. What's in the towel?"

Steve's smile turned into a sly grin. "Wanna take a look?"

"Alright." Bucky got up, still holding his margarita, and carefully walked through the bubbling water.

Moving to the other side of the tub to inspect the towel placed him a lot closer to Steve, who had both elbows out on the ledge like he was chilling. Bucky tried his best to not stare at Steve as he lifted a flap of towel. When he saw the dull black object lying there, Bucky blinked a couple times as his mind registered what it was.

He replaced the flap of towel and looked at Steve. "That's a gun."

"Yeah," Steve said, all casual. "Don't touch it."

"I've held a gun before," Bucky replied, because it was true.

"Oh, you have, huh?" Steve's dark eyebrows flicked up, like he was surprised to hear this. "What kind of gun?"

"My dad's automatic pistol," Bucky said, taking a long sip of his drink.

Steve made a considering noise. "And did you fire it?"

"Yep." Bucky allowed himself a smug little smile. "Only a couple times out back, though. My mom freaked and made my dad store it away in the safe after that."

"Smart lady," Steve said.

"Yeah." Bucky smiled at the memory, the way his mom had yelled at his dad afterwards and he'd gotten all sore. Bucky's smile faded. So often now a fond memory would make him sad, and he wished his dad were still here.

He sat back down on the tub's seat and finished off the remainder of his drink.

"Were you close with your dad?" Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged. "Not really. I think he was disappointed the way I turned out, you know? He called me a book worm and wanted me to play more sports, but that's just not me."

Steve nodded like he understood. He took Bucky's empty glass, offering him a new margarita. "What about your mom?"

Bucky shrugged again, sipping at his drink. "She's closer with my sister. And Becca just had a baby, so they're both busy looking after him."

"You and your sister close?"

"No." Bucky laughed wryly. "We tend to argue a lot."

Steve smiled at him. "I was an only child, but I had a lot of cousins growing up so I know what that's like."

"Are your parents still alive?" Bucky asked, prompting Steve to burst into laughter.

"I'm not that old, Bucky," he said. "My mom's just turned sixty."

"Oh. Sorry." Bucky's face flushed hard. "And your dad?"

Steve smile faded. "My dad died a few years ago. But he was a great guy. My mom missed him a lot."

"I'm so sorry," Bucky said. "I didn't know."

"It's fine." Steve smiled kindly at him. "It's nearly eight years now."

"Oh. Still..." Bucky swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, feeling that acute sadness again. "Sucks."

"Yeah," Steve agreed.

They drank in silence for a moment, with the hot tub jets bubbling away.

"Steve? Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"Are you close with your mom?"

"Well..." Steve chuckled. "When I was younger, yeah. You see, she's from a very strict Irish Catholic background. There's a lot of things she... _expected_ from me, being an only child, and I wasn't able to deliver on them."

"Like what?" Bucky asked. "I mean, I'm not trying to be nosy."

"It's okay," Steve said. "Well, she expected grandchildren, for a start. And I don't want kids, so that didn't go down well."

"Oh," Bucky said, filing that information away for later. He'd never seen himself having kids of his own either, not that anyone had asked him.

Bucky wondered if Steve's mom knew that he was into guys, too, and whether she approved or not. He wasn't brave enough to ask, as that seemed a touch too nosy even for Bucky.

"She go to church?" he asked instead.

Steve nodded. "Oh, yeah. Every week." He laughed lightly. "I managed to disappoint her there, too. Even before I started boxing I was always getting into fights, and she hated it when I'd show up to church with a black eye or broken nose. Church was very important to her."

Bucky could almost picture the scene. Their moms didn't sound all that different. "Mom used to take us to church when we were younger," he said. "She stopped going when people kept asking where our dad was, because she didn't want to tell them he was home with a hangover and he wouldn't get out of bed."

"Yeah, I can see that being awkward," Steve said with a smile. "So what happened to his gun?"

"Oh," Bucky waved a hand, "he pawned that off way back." In fact, his dad had pawned most of their stuff before his mom could stop him. Bucky glanced over at the towel where Steve's gun lay concealed. "Do you keep this one on you?"

"Not usually." Steve gestured around casually. "But it's night, and it's just us here now, so it's only for emergencies."

Bucky blinked at that. "What sort of emergencies? Like a home invasion?"

"Yeah, I guess that would count as an emergency." Steve's lips pulled into a smile. "It's licensed, Bucky. It's a legal gun."

"Right," Bucky said. "But... you expect an emergency?"

"I wouldn't say that," Steve replied, his tone still calm and casual like this wasn't a big deal to him. "It's just good to be prepared," he said. "Or, if you prefer, I can get one of the guys to come out here so they can stand guard?"

Bucky broke into a grin. "Um, no thanks."

"Sure?" Steve teased. "I'll ask them to hide behind that bush there. You won't even see 'em."

Bucky laughed. "No, please. It's fine just us."

Steve smiled at him and it seemed fond. Bucky felt a little shy with so much attention on him, so he drank more of his drink and discovered he'd finished that one too.

"Tequila is pretty strong, Bucky," Steve said in amusement. "Might wanna take it easy there."

"Sorry." Bucky set his empty glass onto the tray. There was one margarita left, plus Steve's first one that was only half finished. Bucky wasn't used to drinking strong liquor, he usually stuck to wine. He wasn't sure if he was drunk or not yet, thanks to nervous energy burning through his body, but perhaps he was starting to feel a _little_ tipsy.

"You can have another drink if you want," Steve said. "Make sure you have a glass of water before you go to bed later."

"Okay," Bucky said, finding that a curious thing for Steve to say. It kind of sounded like he expected Bucky to see himself into bed _on his own_ , like they wouldn't be getting into bed together.

Bucky took up the full glass of margarita and sipped it, turning that over in his mind.

Steve was still sitting quite a distance away, not having made a move on Bucky at all yet, and Bucky hadn't expected this. He was starting to feel a little... impatient.

"So whose idea was it for you to be a doctor?" Steve asked, making more polite conversation.

"Um, mine, I guess," Bucky replied. "It was either that or business school, and I didn't like that idea so much."

"Do you have to study all the physical stuff like bodies?" Steve asked. "Or is it, psychs study something else?"

Bucky looked up at him. "It's medical school," he said, shrugging a shoulder. "You have to complete, like, all the units required."

"Isn't it seven years?" Steve asked. Bucky nodded. "How many did you complete?"

"Not enough," Bucky murmured. "Um, I did two and a half years, before I had to drop out. Then I tried to do the credits in night school while I was working different jobs, but it was just too much."

Steve nodded slowly, stroking his beard with one hand. "Would you be able to return to night school now?"

"Um, maybe?" Bucky didn't feel like he had the energy, but maybe later on. "I have a job interview next week. Just have to focus on that."

Steve nodded again like he was considering, but he didn't say anything.

Bucky didn't want to talk about himself any more, and wondered how he could flirt with Steve without seeming like he was too desperate. An idea, most likely from all the tequila, sprung into his head.

"Steve?" he asked. "Can you teach me how to throw a punch?"

An amused smile broke over Steve's face. "Why's that? Got someone you want to rough up?"

Bucky grinned. "No. I'm just curious. I've never done it."

"That's a good thing, Bucky," Steve said.

"Please," Bucky whined.

"Alright, sure." Steve motioned for Bucky to lose his drink. "Put that down and stand over here."

Bucky took a fortifying sip of margarita before he set it down, then he got up to stand in the center of the hot tub where Steve was.

"Make a fist," Steve instructed him, and when Bucky did so Steve cupped his hand. "This part hurts them," he said gently, touching Bucky's index and middle knuckles, "and this part hurts you," he added, tapping on the last two knuckles. "Using your fist to punch without protection can end up in a fracture if you're not careful, so don't go trying this out on anyone, alright?"

Bucky laughed. "I won't. I just wanted to try."

"Alright, then." Steve smiled at him, looking Bucky in his eyes. "You want to aim up here," he said, holding his hand up over his right shoulder. "Aim your fist here, hit hard."

Bucky blinked in surprise as Steve stood there and waited. "But I can't hit you," he squeaked. "I thought you'd hold your hand up or something?"

"You won't hit me, Bucky." Steve's smile became a grin. "But try anyway."

"Well... alright." Bucky balled his fists up, taking a moment to plan his move. "Are you sure about this?"

"I get hit for a living," Steve pointed out. "Show me what you got."

"Okay," Bucky said, and threw his punch without warning.

Embarrassingly, it was nowhere near where Bucky aimed, and Steve caught Bucky's fist in his hand like it was nothing heavier than a feather.

"Nice try," he sassed. "Wanna go again?"

"It's harder than it looks!" Bucky defended, his cheeks flushing.

"Yes, it is," Steve agreed, still holding Bucky's hand. "Remember what I told you about the knuckles. Aim this part, not this part." He tapped Bucky's first two knuckles again, then let him go. "C'mon, champ."

Bucky laughed and threw another punch, lurching to the side to correct his aim. Steve had to dodge this one, but he did so effortlessly like some sort of anime ninja barely moving his head.

"Closer," Steve appraised. "Wanna try again?"

"Do people use both fists?" Bucky asked, feeling like a novice.

"Are you talking about in the ring, or in a brawl?" Steve chuckled.

"Um, well, I'm not getting in a ring." Bucky laughed. "I mean, just regular real life?"

"Regular real life, huh." Steve chuckled lowly.

"I mean without weapons," Bucky added. "Just fists."

"Yeah, you use both fists," Steve said. "You can add a knee to someone's gut too. In fact, that's what I'd advise you to do, is kick someone in their gut or their balls, and run."

Bucky lowered his fists. "But that's... what if someone needed my help?"

This had Steve chuckling again. "Now who's predicting an emergency situation? Do you want a self defence course? Scott can teach you at the gym if you want."

"Really?" Bucky wondered if he was in shape enough to even attempt that. "How much is it?"

Steve waved a hand. "Don't worry about that. Scott's great with beginners, I'll give you some times he's available if you want."

"Um, okay." Bucky sat back down in the tub, feeling light headed. Maybe he was drunk after all.

Steve sat down too, a little closer this time. "So, how was your first punch?"

Bucky snorted wryly. "I'd say pretty terrible, but at least I can say I've thrown a punch now, right?"

"It was fine," Steve said kindly. "Practise makes perfect."

"But I can't really do any damage, can I?" Bucky indicated himself. "I mean, not real damage."

"Bucky," Steve said with a chuckle, "is this how you normally are, or is it the tequila talking? Why do you want to cause damage, and should I be worried?"

Bucky had to laugh. "Sorry, I'm just kidding. I mean, I know I'm small."

"It's not about size," Steve told him. "Trust me. But if you're really interested, we'll get you on a self defence course. Even knowing a few basic moves can give people more confidence."

"Okay," Bucky agreed, though the thought of himself inside a gym actually attempting to work out while surrounded by gym pros made him want to facepalm. Sober Bucky never would've agreed to joining a gym.

"Thanks, Steve," he added, realising Steve was indulging him quite a bit. "Sorry for being dumb."

"You're not being dumb," Steve told him. "And you're welcome in the gym any time. We have a lot of great facilities."

"Mmm." Bucky glanced up at Steve, realising his attempt at flirting hadn't gone the way he'd anticipated.

Clearly Bucky was terrible at flirting.

"Um, can I ask you something?" he blurted out. "This isn't what I expected from... uh, from this set up. Like, I didn't think we'd be just hanging out, you know?"

Steve's expression was calm, but his eyebrows did raise a little. "What were you expecting?"

"Well..." Bucky's cheeks burned hot as all the things he'd imagined doing with Steve danced through his mind. "I mean, I looked up what sugaring was, and I thought it would be more one on one time?"

"Well, it can be, Bucky," Steve said gently. "But you did seem kind of nervous about it all, so I didn't want to push you."

"Oh," Bucky said, feeling foolish. "I'm not. I mean, okay, maybe I am, but not like... I mean, I like you," he babbled.

Man, maybe he should just sink under the water and stay down there, he thought.

"I like you, too," Steve replied, elbows up on the edge of the tub again like he was just chilling. "But there's no rush, Bucky. We can take things slow."

"Okay," Bucky said, then gathered his courage and slid along the seat, positioning himself next to Steve.

Bucky waited, too shy to do anything else, but he did lean into Steve's side so their skin touched. It felt good, and Steve felt big and solid and very warm against Bucky's skin.

A long, tense moment passed, and Bucky was worried he'd overstepped, then he felt Steve's arm come down around his shoulders, and Bucky was equal parts thrilled and nervous.

"Alright?" Steve asked, his voice low and quiet.

Bucky nodded. It was more than alright. He leaned into Steve more, staring at the water in front of him as he simply enjoyed the sensation of being held.

It was nice.

Nicer than he'd expected. Bucky felt _safe_ , and his nervousness slowly ebbed away. He looked up, and in doing so realised how close his face was to Steve's. Steve looked down at him, and Bucky threw caution to the wind as he leaned up to kiss Steve on the lips.

Steve kissed him back, and Bucky had never kissed someone with a beard before. It was interesting, kind of soft and tickly, but Bucky liked it. Steve's arm tightened around him as they kissed and Bucky melted into him. He reached up to cup Steve's face as they made out, pressing himself into Steve's body.

Bucky could've gone on kissing all night, and started to move himself onto Steve's lap but Steve held him off and broke the kiss gently.

"Hold up," he said, sitting Bucky back down in the water. "I'm pretty sure you're drunk, so let's ease up there."

"I thought this was what you wanted?" Bucky said, feeling a rejection looming.

"I do," Steve told him, holding both Bucky's hands under the water as he looked him in the eyes. "But I meant it when I said we can take things slow. There's no rush, Bucky."

"Um, okay." Bucky did feel a bit woozy. Maybe Steve was right. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising." Steve chuckled. "We can make out some more if you want, but that's all we're doing tonight, alright?"

Bucky nodded eagerly. "Alright. Let's make out."


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much [Dready](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadlockholiday/pseuds/dreadlockholiday/works) for helping with this! ❤

Bucky had a hangover.

Really, he supposed that was maybe the _least_ of his worries this morning. He'd kissed Steve, in the hot tub no less. Bucky rubbed his hands over his face and groaned lightly to himself in bed as he remembered how desperately he'd thrown himself at Steve last night.

No wonder he was single, he was so clueless.

He'd poured himself into bed alone last night and even though he'd left his door unlocked (drunk Bucky had _zero_ inhibitions, he'd learned), he was still alone this morning. Steve hadn't come to visit his room during the night.

Although...

Bucky frowned up at the ceiling in thought.

Would he have remembered? It wasn't often he got incredibly drunk so he wasn't entirely sure if he'd remember everything from last night. Then again, Steve had seemed quite adamant about not doing anything more than a kiss in the tub.

Bucky hoped he hadn't humiliated himself beyond repair. Maybe there were some online tips for sugar babies that needed to learn better behaviour. Like a _My Fair Lady_ , only _My Fair Sugar Baby_.

Bucky felt on the nightstand for his glasses, and just before he put them on he realised he could _see_. Oh, no. He'd gone to sleep with contacts in. He was a moron drunk, the jury was in and it was unanimous.

"Shit," he muttered, dragging himself out of bed. He'd have a quick shower and hopefully be able to moisten his eyes up enough to get the contacts out.

Lucky it was still early, not even nine AM, so the nearest bathroom was free. Bucky dashed in there and washed himself, tackled his contacts, and he felt a lot better after the hot shower.

It looked to be another warm day outside too, so Bucky dressed in long shorts and a shirt. More new clothes from his wonderful wardrobe. He put on his glasses and looked for his phone. When he found it he noticed a text message from Steve that'd been sent some time last night. The message said a simple _Sleep tight_ followed by an X.

Bucky stared at the message for a long moment, the memory of making out with Steve all rushing back to him. And oh gosh, it'd been very, _very_ nice. Bucky had enjoyed it rather a lot.

He didn't have beard burn, did he? Bucky dashed to the mirror on the dresser, relieved to see his face seemed clear of any tell-tale pink areas, just regular peaches and cream complexion. Bucky ran a hand thoughtfully over his chin. How much making out resulted in beard burn? Or was Steve's beard too long and soft?

Questions, questions. Maybe next time (if there was a next time) Bucky could test that out. Time how long it took for beard burn.

Natasha would know this sort of stuff. Bucky felt an urge to text her and ask, but he worried she'd put two and two together and figure out who Bucky was seeing.

Or, sugaring.

Anyway. Bucky wanted to find Steve and had a feeling he would be up and about by now. He slipped on a pair of tennis shoes, grabbed his sunglasses and quietly headed downstairs.

He was starting to get a feel of who were the late sleepers in the house, and he was pleased that Steve seemed to be an early bird like himself.

Bucky got downstairs and wandered through to the kitchen and lounge, following the sounds of voices talking. Steve was there with Luis, and it was clear they were discussing food. Steve had car keys in his hand and sunglasses perched on top of his head, like he was about to head out. Luis spotted Bucky first and indicated to Steve.

"Hey, man," Luis greeted Bucky. "Morning."

"Morning," Bucky replied shyly, approaching the pair.

"Oh, good morning," Steve said with a friendly smile. "You're up early."

Bucky blushed a little, but he smiled back, pleased to see Steve. "Yeah."

"You want coffee?" Luis offered, bustling about at the counter for the coffee pot. "Or juice? A smoothie? I got this great new smoothie machine!"

"Oh, um, just a black coffee is great, actually," Bucky said. "Thanks."

Luis nodded and poured out a fresh coffee, handing it over to Bucky.

"Hey," Steve said to Luis, "this could work. Bucky can come with me, and you can start the grill."

"Sure, man," Luis said easily. "I'll have it ready when you get back. The grill of perfection, just you wait."

"Go where?" Bucky asked.

Steve grinned at him. "Wanna come to the market with me?"

Bucky nodded eagerly. "Sure."

Going to market with Steve was way more thrilling than Bucky had expected it to be.

First of all, Bucky got to ride shotgun in the car with Steve driving, so he felt giddy as a teenager out on his first date. Second, he had Steve all to himself, and Bucky was equal parts nervous and thrilled about that.

Don't screw it up, Bucky, he told himself. Just be cool.

Steve drove casually with the windows down, sunglasses on and humming along to the radio. He looked very handsome, wearing a soft shirt that showed off his arms, and some casual jeans. Bucky couldn't help stealing glances at him as they drove down leafy lanes with very little traffic.

Steve noticed him looking and grinned like this amused him. "So, did you sleep alright?" he asked, turning down the radio so they could talk.

"I guess so," Bucky replied. "Like, pretty hard, actually."

Steve laughed. "That's good right? And you don't have a hangover?"

"A little bit?" Bucky laughed too, nervous. "Just a headache."

"Check the glove compartment," Steve told him. "There's some Tylenol there. We'll get you a drink when we get into town."

Bucky reached for the glove compartment as instructed, half expecting to find a gun inside, or something wild. He popped it open but disappointingly there was no gun. He found the Tylenol packet and took two pills out.

"I can just swallow them dry," he said without thinking, and blushed when Steve gave him a sidelong grin.

"I'm sure you can," Steve chuckled, "but wait until you have a drink."

"Okay," Bucky said sheepishly.

When they reached the hub of a quaint little town, Steve parked the car and they got out. It was so pretty, Bucky thought. Like a chocolate box painting or something. Some of the stores across the street had striped awnings on them, and fresh produce displayed outside.

Steve took him to an ice cream shop first. Bucky's eyes went wide when he looked around at all the gourmet ice cream.

"You good with a milkshake?" Steve asked, getting his wallet out. "Or soda?"

"Milkshake, please," Bucky said. He hadn't had a proper milkshake in forever, and they clearly made them fresh here. "Mint chocolate."

The server had a pink and white apron on, and smiled so happily at them Bucky felt like he'd walked into a Hallmark movie.

"Well, hello, there," she greeted warmly. "What can I get for you?"

"Hey." Steve smiled back at her. "Can I get an OJ, and a mint chocolate milkshake. Large. Thanks."

"Coming right up!"

Bucky was thrilled, and when he got his freshly made, enormous milkshake he was so distracted Steve had to remind him to take his Tylenol.

"I nearly forgot," Bucky said, popping the pills out.

They drank their drinks, Steve leading the way over to a small convenience store nearby. Inside it was more like some organic and expensive produce store with astronomical prices on the labels when Bucky inspected closer. But he wasn't the one paying, so he was just happy to trail along next to Steve, gazing around at all the stuff as he sipped his shake.

Steve had a list with him, and he picked out one of the small carts for them to use, pushing it along casually with one hand as he led the way to the first aisle. Bucky had a brief fantasy moment of thinking this would be what playing house with someone would feel like.

Or, not playing house, but being in a couple. Wouldn't it? Couples did grocery runs together, right? Bucky didn't know any couples, not ones that lived together.

He supposed it was silly to feel so joyful over shopping for groceries, but he couldn't deny it felt fun. No one had ever taken him shopping for food, not since he was very little, and certainly nowhere nice like this.

"Are we having barbecue for lunch?" Bucky asked, guessing from the stuff Steve was picking off the shelves.

"We sure are," Steve replied. "We'll get the meat last, as it's getting hot outside."

Bucky nodded, taking over cart duty as Steve perused his list and searched the shelves.

"Why do they always change shit around," Steve muttered under his breath, looking at the shelf for something. Bucky wondered if he was annoyed, but then Steve turned around and gave him a bright smile. "Oh, well." He chuckled. "We'll have to live without the thousand island sauce."

Bucky smiled back, then did a sharp intake of breath when Steve moved closer to the cart, briefly putting his hand over Bucky's on the handle.

"All good, champ?" he asked, looking Bucky in the eyes.

Bucky could only nod as he gazed back at Steve.

"Sure? You looked a little worried there."

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Bucky said, proud that his voice didn't waver. "Just a little out of it?"

It was a fib, but Steve seemed satisfied with it at least.

"You'll feel better after some lunch." He withdrew his hand, but not before squeezing Bucky's shoulder affectionately. "Let's finish this up and get back before all the crowds get in."

They collected all the groceries and went to check out, then wheeled the cart outside so they could load up the car.

Steve did most of the heavy lifting, while Bucky tried to make himself useful by arranging the bags thoughtfully (heavy stuff at the bottom) and passing things to Steve.

There was still an underlying thrill bubbling away inside Bucky at doing a mundane task like food shopping, but he filed it away for now and decided to simply let himself enjoy the moment.

Next was the butcher's shop, another quaint and pretty store (even though it was all slabs of meat and massive knives slamming repeatedly onto chopping boards). Bucky eyed the man behind the counter chopping up meat and the big knife warily, remembering that knife he'd found under Clint's pillow.

Steve chatted away to the butcher like they knew each other, and Bucky watched quietly as the two older men talked. Evidently their food had been ordered and was prepped already, so it was simply a case of collecting it. Steve carried the large cool-bag, while Bucky got a couple of smaller bags to carry.

It wasn't like Bucky minded so much, clearly Steve was stacked and could carry a lot. And Bucky got to watch his biceps get to work during all this so it was a win-win situation.

Once all the food was carefully packed into the trunk of the car, Steve double checked his list to make sure they'd got everything. Bucky loitered, eager to help out and excited for the barbecue later.

"Okay, I think we're good," Steve declared, closing the trunk. "We made good time. Great job, Bucky."

Bucky smiled, giddy with Steve's praise. They went around the front and got in the car, shutting the doors on the heat and getting into the air conditioned vehicle.

As Bucky was strapping his seatbelt on he noticed Steve looking at something out the rearview mirror very intently. Bucky immediately noticed something was off by the way Steve was staring at whatever was behind them. He subtly checked out the side mirror to see if anything was amiss, but all he saw was some other parked cars in the lot, and a few people walking back and forth like everything was normal.

Bucky wasn't sure what to do, so he waited. Steve didn't elaborate on what he'd been looking at, merely stuck the key in the ignition and started the engine.

Either it was nothing, or Steve didn't want to address it.

Bucky wanted to look round, so he subtly fiddled with his seatbelt as an excuse to twist around and look out the back window.

The only thing he saw that probably seemed out of place was a big black SUV, not that different from Steve's car. The windows were tinted so dark that Bucky couldn't tell if anyone was inside or not, but the way Steve put his foot down and peeled out of the lot suggested that maybe there was.

Okay, this is weird, Bucky thought.

Steve didn't go over the speed limit but the difference in his driving now was noticeable, with Bucky tensing in his seat so he didn't jerk forward as they took corners and made stops.

The radio had come back on, so there was this odd combination of peppy pop music and Steve's urgent driving as he took them the long way around to get back to the beach house. Bucky noticed the change in route and the way Steve was checking the rearview frequently.

This all felt kind of _tense_.

Bucky checked the side mirror and saw the black dot of the SUV far behind them, but definitely following.

"Um," he said, breaking the silence, "do you know who's following us?"

Steve was quiet a moment, eyes on the road as he drove fast. "Yeah, I have some idea," he said.

Bucky's wild imagination was no help here, making him worry that something awful was about to happen. "So who is it?" he asked, because he had to know.

They were speeding along the uphill drive toward the beach house now, Steve still checking the rearview.

"Nothing to worry about," Steve said, his voice calm even as he drove like a race car driver down the quiet road. "But listen to me carefully, Bucky. When we stop I want you to take the meat bags and head inside the house, and then stay there, okay? And don't talk to anyone you don't know."

Bucky didn't know what to say, but now he felt scared.

They reached Steve's house, Steve breaking hard out front. He cut the engine and got out his phone, putting it to his ear. "Dammit, Luis," he muttered, when his call wasn't answered.

"Who's following us?" Bucky asked, his voice wavering slightly.

Steve looked at him with a wry smile. "It's just the FEDs, but you can't trust them, alright?"

"FEDs?" Bucky frowned in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"FBI agents," Steve explained, then set his hand heavily onto Bucky's knee. "I'm sorry, Bucky. I wanted to ease you into all these politics but... well, things are kind of busy at the moment, so..."

The clandestine meeting with Judge Philips popped back into Bucky's mind, and the things he'd overheard yesterday.

"Right," he said, still unsure what all this meant. "They're not arresting you, are they?"

Surprisingly, Steve broke out in a grin. "I'd like to see them try," he murmured, then got out of the car.

Bucky quickly followed suit, bewildered by the situation but anxious all the same. He rushed around to the trunk that Steve got open, and grabbed a few of the lighter bags in his hands.

"Here," Steve said softly, helping Bucky to get a hold of the bags, and also giving him the house key. "Take them inside and stay there. If you see Luis or any of the others, tell them to come pick up the rest right now, okay?"

"Okay," Bucky agreed, and allowed himself to be ushered away toward the house. He couldn't help looking over his shoulder, especially as the black SUV slid into view. Bucky had to fumble with the key and all his bags anyway before he could get in the door, and he watched two men in dark suits exit their vehicle and approach Steve.

"Oh, hey there, Rogers!" one man called out to him. "Fancy seeing you here."

Bucky was desperate to lurk and listen, but Steve had given him instructions. He let himself in the house and shut the door behind him, taking the bags of food over to the kitchen.

"Luis?" he called, looking around for anyone else. "Gabe?"

No one was there. Bucky heard sounds from further inside the house, distant music, maybe a TV, but that was it.

Well...

Bucky was itching to know what was going on outside. FBI, like, for real? What did they want with Steve? Bucky had to know. He left the food on the counter, pocketed the house key and returned to the door. The door was glass, completely transparent, so Bucky could peep through and see what was going on outside.

They were just standing there by Steve's car, talking. A white guy and a black guy, both either Steve's age or maybe older, Bucky wasn't sure from the distance. And they were just chatting to Steve like they knew him. The white guy had aviators on and seemed to be doing most of the talking.

Some of Bucky's anxiety ebbed away, but not all. Steve looked relatively calm from his stance, but he did not look relaxed.

Bucky opened the door and went outside, casually, like he was just going to collect more of the food.

When all three pairs of eyes swung round to look at him as he approached, Bucky felt a little too _seen_. Maybe this hadn't been the smartest move, but he hadn't wanted to leave Steve out on his own either.

"Oh, hello," said the guy with the aviators. "And who's this, Rogers? New recruit? Replacement? No, wait, I got it! The pool boy."

"Lay off, Tony," Steve said, a steely note to his voice.

Bucky felt his ears burning but he made himself calmly take out the big bag of meat from the trunk, holding it in both arms because it was heavy.

"Where's Luis?" Steve asked him.

Bucky shook his head. "I don't know."

Steve looked annoyed now, and Bucky worried that he was the cause. He kept his eyes down and retreated with the meat bag to the house. He was fumbling to get the key out of his pocket, trying not to listen to the three men talking lowly, probably about him.

Luckily the door opened, and Luis stood there with a big smile. "Oh, hey!" he greeted, taking the bag easily from Bucky. "Awesome, awesome. I got the grill going, it's gonna be so good!"

"Um, Luis?" Bucky said, following him into the house. "Uh, Steve wanted you to go outside and grab the other bags because the FBI is here."

Luis spun around with such a look of wide eyed shock on his face, it took Bucky aback.

"You serious?" he squeaked, voice going up several octaves. "The _FEDs?_ Oh, shit..." He went to run back to the door, realised he was still holding the meat, then spun around and ran to the kitchen. "Omigod, omigod, omigod," he murmured, setting the meat down. He went rushing back to the door, waving his arms at Bucky as he passed. "You stay in here!"

Bucky nodded, staying completely still as Luis flailed outside and shut the door after him.

So... now what? Bucky wondered. Was there going to be a raid or something? Why would the FEDs raid a holiday home? Bucky hadn't seen anything of note in the house except small things like Steve's gun, or Clint's knife.

Unless there was something else here? Bucky glanced around at the home, with its minimalist décor and without any obvious stash places in sight. It would be hard to hide anything big here.

Maybe it was something else, then? Like the loan shark thing? Bucky's breath caught when he considered the possibility of Steve being arrested or taken away. What would happen to his loan? Would it still count or would he be thrown back to the wolves?

This was serious. Bucky _couldn't_ go back to that life with debt collectors. He'd only just started to relax again.

He hurried over to one of the side windows, with the drapes gathered there to provide some cover. Bucky very carefully peeped around the side of the drape to get a look at what was going on outside.

Still talking, by the looks of it. Steve rubbing a hand over his beard now, like he was thinking. The guy with the sunglasses was still doing most of the talking.

Luis was there too, collecting all the bags from the trunk and taking them to the door.

Bucky went and opened it for him, as Luis had his hands full.

"Oh, thanks, man," Luis said, nudging the door shut behind him with his hip. Bucky followed Luis to the kitchen, wringing his hands.

"Luis, they won't arrest Steve, will they?"

"No, man, no." Luis shook his head, setting down the grocery bags and unpacking them. "It's kind of complicated, but I think they're only on a fishing expedition today."

Bucky didn't understand. "Huh? Fishing?"

"Yeah, yeah." Luis nodded. "You know, like, fishing for information? They do this now and then, you know? Shake the tree, see what falls out."

"Oh," Bucky said, relaxing minutely at this news. "Find out about what?"

"Well, everything," Luis said, hurriedly unpacking all the food onto the counter. "Just up in Steve's business, you know what I'm saying?"

"The loan business?" Bucky said, making a guess.

Luis paused his fussing with the food, glancing at Bucky a moment. He seemed like he was thinking about what to say next, Bucky thought. Which wasn't Luis in his natural, carefree state at all.

"Um, yeah," Luis said eventually. "All of that. All of that."

"Hey, guys," Gabe said, strolling by. "What's up?"

"The FEDs!" Luis hissed at him, gesticulating wildly toward the door. "Are right outside!"

"They are? Shit," Gabe drawled, as Bucky watched the exchange between the two men. Gabe seemed more relaxed about the whole thing, like it was a minor annoyance, while Luis still seemed rattled.

"I think you should go outside and rescue Steve," Luis told Gabe, while Gabe snorted.

"Hell, no," he replied. "I'm not going out there and reminding them they should probably arrest me for something. You go outside."

"I've already been outside," Luis shot back. "Your turn, man."

"Where's Clint?" Gabe looked around. "We should send him, he's white. They never arrest Clint."

"He's still upstairs," Luis said, sounding annoyed. "It would be nice if he got up and did his job, man. That's all I'm saying."

"I hear that," Gabe said.

Bucky, who'd been watching this back and forth like a tennis match, had an idea. "I can go?" he offered, as the two men looked at him. "I mean, why not?"

Luis and Gabe exchanged a look. "He's white," Luis murmured. "He won't get arrested."

Gabe started chuckling. "Of course he won't get arrested, the kid hasn't done anything." He turned to Bucky with a smile, and took out his cell phone. "Take this outside, but don't get too close to the FEDs. Just call out to Steve that he has a phone call and he needs to take it. We'll call from Luis's phone in here so we can listen."

"Actually, my phone's upstairs," Luis put in.

"It's okay, I'll use my phone," Bucky said, catching on. He took Gabe's phone and entered his number quickly. "Call me."

Then he turned around and headed to the front door, taking his phone out his pocket. He checked the scene from the window first, where Steve was still stuck outside talking to the two agents.

Bucky's phone rang in his hand, and he accepted the call. "Gabe?" he said, glancing back at the kitchen where Gabe and Luis were giving him encouraging thumbs up.

" _I'm here,_ " Gabe's voice answered in Bucky's ear. " _Go out there and say Steve has a phone call_."

Bucky nodded, and opened the door. He walked out a little ways onto the path and took a deep breath to fortify himself. Then he called out, " _Steve!_ You got a phone call."

This halted the talking, as all three men turned around to look at him. Bucky felt anxious, but he relied on the cell phone as a prop, waving it in the air like someone was waiting on the line.

The ruse worked, with Steve excusing himself from the agents. He walked casually up to the house, smiling at Bucky as he took the cell phone and put it to his ear.

"Clever," Steve said quietly, glancing back at the agents as he ushered Bucky through the door first. Bucky glanced at the agents too, wondering what they'd do. They were just standing there watching like this was all terribly interesting to them. The white guy even waved casually.

Steve's hand pressed on Bucky's back to encourage him through the door, then he safely shut it closed behind them. "Thanks," he said, handing Bucky his phone back.

Bucky nodded up at him, relieved Steve wasn't mad. "You're not in any trouble, are you, Steve?"

Steve gave him a crooked smile in reply. "Nothing I can't handle, Buck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thanks for reading! I hope you don't hate me for taking a break from updates sometimes, this year has been hard on me. Also thank you so much for leaving nice comments and being so lovely, even between updates. It really helps to know that you're reading the story and want to read more. So thanks for that I really appreciate it.
> 
> I'm very excited to show more of the story, and Bucky using his initiative more. I hope you're enjoying it! Thanks sm ❤


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The penny drops...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry updates take a while. Thank you for your kind and most amusing comments, I love reading them. It makes me lol when y'all drag Bucky for being naïve, hehe. 
> 
> ~~

_Natasha, we need to talk._

Bucky typed the message, his finger hovering over the send button. Nat was around eight hours ahead of him, so it'd be early evening for her in Moscow. Bucky had planned to wait until he was safely back in his apartment before talking to Nat, but he couldn't wait any longer. He needed answers.

He glanced up, checking the area was clear. He was sitting on a sun lounger by the pool, by himself. Steve had pretty much shooed him away to the pool right after that whole Feds on the front door episode.

Bucky had obediently gone upstairs to get changed into his swimwear, and while he was up there he'd overheard Steve yelling at Clint. He hadn't heard Steve yell before, not properly. He hadn't even yelled for long, it'd been pretty short, telling Clint to get his ass out of bed, get up on the roof and watch the Feds until they left, or something along those lines. But the authority and sheer force behind the yell had been enough to freeze Bucky to the spot and make him nervous.

He'd listened with his ears on stalks as someone, probably Clint, went running out onto the balcony and then thudded up some steps above. Bucky hadn't even been aware there was a roof. He'd have to check it out another time.

Things had gone quiet after that, so Bucky had finished getting changed in his room. To avoid the household, he slipped outside via his balcony door and took the outside steps down to the pool.

Nobody else was at the pool, but Bucky saw them inside the house passing by the open doors, mostly Luis who was fixing lunch, and Gabe. A couple times Steve stalked by, and he seemed restless like he was pacing.

Since Bucky was sitting in the sun and it was nearing midday, he figured Steve wouldn't be coming over to him any time soon, so he was safe to pry information from Natasha.

He sent the message to her then waited anxiously for her reply. As he waited he scrolled Instagram, not really seeing anything but just letting himself zone out as the pictures flew by.

Luckily Nat replied pretty quick.

_You only call me Natasha when it's serious, so what's up?_

Bucky's thumbs flew over his keypad as he wrote a reply. _Don't video call me, I'm in the office... (_ A lie, but he couldn't think of anything else right now, as it was Sunday.) _You know the guy you said to get a loan from? What do you know about his business?_

Bucky hit send and bit his nail nervously as he waited for her reply. Then he realised he needed to look less like he was digging for dirt on Steve while in his house, so Bucky stopped biting his nail and tried to look relaxed. Like he was just lounging peacefully. Totally innocent.

He tilted his sunglasses up and twisted his head round to check nobody was sneaking up behind him.

The coast was clear.

He turned back to his phone. The typing ellipses was there, then went away again. Nat always took forever texting, often because she was doing multiple things at once, which was why video calls were usually better for them.

Bucky suppressed a groan. "C'mon, Natasha," he murmured.

After all that waiting, Nat's reply was a simple, _What do u mean?_

Bucky rolled his eyes and started typing again. _Is he part of the mafia or something?_

Seeing his question written out in plain text onscreen made Bucky feel both naïve and anxious all at once. He hit send, and waited.

Nat replied, _LOL no._

The relief Bucky felt was huge, and he exhaled the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

The typing ellipses popped up again, so he waited for Nat to write more. When her second message came in, Bucky had to read it twice.

_He's Irish mob._

Wait, what? Bucky was confused. He wrote back, _isn't that the same thing???_

 _OMG_ , Nat replied, _don't ever let anyone Irish or Italian hear you say that._

 _Wth?_ Bucky typed furiously, _Idk what that means, Natasha!!1_

 _Calm down_ , Nat told him. _Look, different countries, different names, right? Sicilian mafia is Cosa Nostra. Irish mob is not mafia. Understand?_

Bucky's jaw dropped lower and lower as he read the message.

Oh, he thought, feeling like a dumb kid.

 _So they are mafia?_ He wrote back. Natasha sent cry-laughing emojis in response.

 _Omg, Bucky,_ she wrote, _have you had your coffee yet? Yes, fine, it's the same difference but they have their own names. Irish hate Italians and vice versa, there's a big rivalry so don't say anything rude to their faces, they'd take offence to it._

 _Ok, dw, I won't_ , he wrote. Like, he wasn't _that_ dumb, he wasn't about to go repeat these questions to Steve or anyone else.

Another message from Nat came in. _Why are you asking all this? Is anything wrong?_

 _No,_ Bucky wrote back. _Everything's fine, I was just curious..._

Because the FEDs had interrupted his otherwise blissful morning, Bucky thought to himself. That was why he wanted to know what he was getting himself into here.

 _Why_ , he wrote out, _would an Irish mob be made up of mostly non Irish people?_

Like, half the people Steve associated with weren't Irish at all. Then Bucky realised this question to Nat would be telling on himself, so he deleted it. He supposed it didn't matter anyway, since it didn't change the fact that Bucky was spending his weekend with mobsters, Irish or not.

He did have one more burning question for Nat, though. He typed out, _is there lots of bosses and one main boss? Like a Godfather situation?_

Nat sent eye rolling emojis. _That's how the Italians do it, Bucky, not the Irish,_ she replied. _Anyway maybe it's better you don't know._

 _Omg, just tell me_ , he wrote.

 _Fine,_ she replied. _Rogers is the boss. You're really not supposed to know that, so keep it to yourself._

Bucky had suspected as much, so this didn't come as too much of a shock. _I promise not to say anything,_ he wrote.

The typing ellipses came up and disappeared a couple times, so Bucky waited for Nat to reply. He glanced across the patio toward the house where the barbecue grill was smoking away, with Luis tending to it. Steve and Gabe were leaning in the open doorway, seemingly telling Luis what to do as Luis waved his hand at them like he didn't need their advice.

It all looked like a very normal family barbecue, Bucky thought.

His phone pinged with Nat's new message, so he looked down to read it. His brows drew together as he read the words. _Bucky, I know I told you to flirt with Rogers but keep your distance, ok? Yes he seems charming but he's a dangerous man._

Bucky blinked, somewhat surprised at that. He typed back, _how so?_ He needed details.

Or, did he? Maybe it was better not knowing? Bucky frowned, turning things over in his mind. Dangerous was a broad term. Dangerous to whom? What Bucky needed to know specifically was, was he in any danger himself?

Nat wrote back, _criminals are criminals, Bucky. They're dangerous people. Don't get on the wrong side of them._

Bucky read the message, then looked over at Steve. He was still laughing and chatting with Gabe and Luis, like nothing was out of the ordinary. Such a strange juxtaposition to Nat's warning message.

 _Am I in any danger?_ he sent to Nat.

May as well ask outright, he thought.

 _Only if you don't pay back your loan_ , she replied.

Well, that wasn't terribly helpful. But then Nat didn't know Bucky's full situation. He'd probably have to tell her the details, or they'd just keep talking in circles like this.

"Found your sunglasses?" a voice said at Bucky's side, making him jump in fright. He pressed the side button on his phone to black out the screen, as he looked up into Wanda's smiling face.

"What?" he breathed, his heart pounding from the surprise. He really hoped she hadn't seen his messages sneaking up on him.

"Your sunglasses." She gestured at his face. "You found them?"

Bucky was confused up until he remembered the lie he'd told yesterday about dropping his sunglasses over the balcony, and having to creep around the property to find them. Trust Wanda to troll him over it.

He plastered on a sweet smile. "This is another pair," he lied. "If you see the other ones anywhere, let me know."

"Hm," she replied, which sounded a lot like she didn't buy his story.

Bucky watched her seat herself on the sun lounger next to him, arranging her towel. He wouldn't be able to chat to Nat with Wanda right here. He quickly texted to Nat, _gtg, talk later,_ then deleted the message history to get rid of the evidence.

He then put his phone into airplane mode so he couldn't receive any incoming messages. He'd had enough excitement for today, he didn't need any more.

"Hey, Bucky!" Gabe called over. "You want a hamburger?"

Bucky was pretty hungry, and he could do with a distraction. He slipped his phone into his shirt pocket and got up, walking to the barbecue.

"Smells great," he said, because compliments were always a good tactic for guests.

Luis seemed pleased, and was clearly in charge of the cooking meat while Gabe hovered with a plate.

"You want rare, medium, or well done?" Luis asked.

"Medium, thanks," Bucky said. His eyes found Steve, who was leaning against the side of the house watching. He smiled back at Bucky, seemingly at ease.

Bucky was pleased he wasn't mad still.

Was Clint still on the roof, he wondered. And were the FEDs still outside? He didn't dare ask, didn't want to risk spoiling the mood.

Luis selected a juicy burger patty with tongs, and set it onto the plate Gabe had ready, with a soft burger bun waiting. They had quite the production line, Bucky thought watching them, as Gabe added salad and condiments to the burger from a side table, then set the top bun on and presented it to Bucky.

"One medium burger," Gabe said.

Bucky couldn't help grinning as he took it. "Thanks, guys."

"No problem, no problem," Luis replied, flipping more burgers. "Wanda want one?"

"Nah," Gabe said. "She said she'll have a salad later."

"More for us," Luis chuckled.

Bucky bit into his burger, which was delicious. He was happily chewing away, hovering at the barbecue, when Steve beckoned him over.

The mouthful of food was suddenly hard to swallow, Bucky found, forcing it down. He approached Steve, hoping he wasn't in trouble or anything.

"Bucky," he said softly, leaning down and looking him in the eyes, "I have to go out this afternoon. Something's come up. After you've had your lunch and a swim, Pietro is going to drive you back to the city."

Bucky nodded slowly. He understood, he was just disappointed. He figured it was something to do with those Federal agents.

"Sure," he said. "Thanks for letting me stay."

Steve smiled kindly at him. "It's a pleasure. Hopefully next time you come here, we won't be so busy."

That reminded Bucky about Judge Philips, and that court case Luis had mentioned. Was all that connected to the FEDs too? Bucky wanted to know. He didn't say anything, he simply returned Steve's smile.

He'd find out, he decided. One way or another, he'd unravel this mystery.

~~

Pietro drove like a maniac, and his sports car was very fast.

Any hope Bucky had had for making small talk with Pietro and digging for information was dashed from all the G-force of his driving. Bucky half expected to get whiplash every time they stopped at a red light then fired off again at top speed.

"Thanks for driving me," he said politely when they parked outside his building.

Pietro unbuckled his seatbelt and got out the car. "I'll take you in."

Oh, another escort, Bucky thought. If his head wasn't mush, it would've been a perfect opportunity to pry Pietro for Intel.

"That sure is a fast car," he mentioned, as they walked up to his building together.

"What a rush, huh?" Pietro chuckled. He seemed easy going, certainly more chipper than Wanda was.

"I have a sister, too," Bucky said, attempting to be casual about it. He let them in the building, and they headed for the elevator. "I'm the elder."

"I'm younger by six minutes," Pietro said.

"Wait, what?" Bucky was surprised. "You're twins?"

Pietro grinned at him as the elevator took them up. "Why so surprised?"

"I mean, I'm not." Bucky smiled too. "I just didn't know."

"Where's your sister?" he asked.

"Oh, she's back home," Bucky explained. "Just had a baby, actually."

Pietro hummed, and when the elevator let them out he walked Bucky to his door. "Babies are loud," he mused.

"Yes, they are," Bucky agreed. "Which is why I'm happy I live in another state."

Pietro laughed at this, and when Bucky had unlocked his apartment door he said his goodbyes and left. Just like Clint had done a few nights ago. Bucky didn't mind the abrupt exit, he was pleased to have some time to himself after that weekend.

Still, it was nice to be walked home.

Bucky locked his door and turned on his lights, feeling pretty safe and secure in his apartment which was still a new feeling to him after all those months of collectors pounding on his door.

If he was being honest with himself, Bucky was more nervous about that security and safety being taken away from him right now than he was about any criminal activity Steve was involved in.

What if this upcoming court case, or whatever it was, would somehow take Steve away and leave Bucky wide open to debt collectors again? Bucky hated not knowing, hated being left in the dark. His parents had done the same all his life, and while Bucky had known things were bad with his father's mounting debt and drinking problem, he hadn't realised it was _that_ _bad_ until it was too late to fix it.

Now Bucky was more aware and he was an adult. Maybe there was something he could do to help. He didn't care if Steve was a criminal or not, Bucky couldn't lose him.


	13. Thirteen

Despite Bucky's curiosity about Steve and his desire to Google everything mob and mafia related, he had to spend Sunday evening researching the company he was interviewing for on Monday.

It definitely wasn't as interesting as Steve. The placement Bucky had an interview for was to intern and assist the line manager for a systems training company. A role so boring Bucky's soul wilted at the thought of it. The training would involve showing people who worked in different offices how to use a new system on their computers, so lots of PowerPoint presentations and dog-walking office workers through using a new system step by painful step.

Good job Bucky was quick at picking up new things on the computer, even if they were boring. He would've rather been placed in a recruitment firm, or maybe something more exciting but there was nothing beyond short term placements and he was sick of bouncing around every office in the city.

He was hoping this placement, which was maternity cover, could lead to something more permanent if they liked him.

Sunday night, Bucky bored himself silly with research on the company and ordered take-out for his dinner, because why not? He ate his food on the couch, making notes and flashcards for himself to memorise.

He selected his outfit for tomorrow, hanging up the slacks and shirt ready on his closet door. Then he went to bed, and hoped things would go his way tomorrow.

His interview was bright and early, but Bucky didn't mind that as he'd slept pretty well.

He had a shower to freshen up, taking care over his appearance: he made sure he was freshly shaved and his hair was neat. He put on his pre-selected clothes, including the tie he'd picked out, knotting it tightly at his throat.

He put on his glasses, then got his shit together in his bag: flashcards, phone, wallet, a notebook and pen just in case. He chose his nicest jacket, holding it in hand because even though it was early, it felt warm outside.

Going to be another hot day, that was for sure.

Bucky went down to the street and to his bus stop, shielding his eyes from the sun as he waited.

He had to catch a bus to the station, then get a train downtown. That meant there was plenty of time to kill. Bucky spent the commute going through his flashcards to help him remember key details about the job placement and the company.

He really wanted to nail this interview. Bucky was _sick_ of doing interviews. He felt like Oliver Twist going around begging with his bowl, and all for roles that he could do easily if anyone gave him a chance. Often what he heard back was they thought he was too young, or too inexperienced.

How was he supposed to get any experience if nobody hired him in the first place? It was a joke.

When Bucky got bored of his flashcards, he fiddled about on his phone for a while. That's when he remembered the photos of him on the beach that Steve had taken.

They were good photos. So good, Bucky was itching to upload them to Instagram right now and flaunt himself for once. He couldn't, though, because then everyone, including Natasha, would start asking questions.

Maybe Bucky could make up some pretend friends and say he went to Coney Island or something. Most people would buy that, especially his mom who already had her hands full with Becca and the baby. But Nat? She'd want to see photos of these friends.

Bucky decided to wait. He wanted to talk to Nat anyway, so he could do that when things had quieted down on his end. He put his phone away and got his flashcards out again.

Focus on the interview, he told himself.

For all Bucky's prep, when he actually had his interview, they hardly asked him anything about the company itself.

The two women interviewing him, Diane and Simone, seemed more interested in Bucky's knowledge of this or that computer system and how quickly he could pick things up in order to train others.

Bucky told them he was knowledgeable on basic systems, and a fast learner. He guessed that Diane and Simone were maybe in their fifties, or around that age. Simone seemed nice, while Diane was curt and to the point.

The good news was when they asked if he could start that week and Bucky said yes, they seemed to like that. Perhaps the other interviewees had to give notice at their current jobs, but Bucky was a free agent.

"How about tomorrow?" Diane asked him, sliding paperwork across the table. "I can go through our new system with you then?"

"Tomorrow is great," Bucky said with a smile. "I'm looking forward to it."

Lies, but he needed the job.

Diane went through some admin with him quickly and took his photo, so his ID card would be ready by tomorrow, and then it was done.

Bucky was pleasantly surprised.

Simone walked him out after, giving him a quick tour of their office floor at the same time. The firm had the eighth floor in a skyscraper building on Cedar Street off Wall Street, only two blocks down from Wall Street station.

It was probably the nicest looking office Bucky had been in so far, and had a great view of the city with its skyscrapers and the river beyond them. From the south side windows, Bucky could just about see Staten Island and the Statue of Liberty out on the water.

He thanked Simone and handed over the temporary ID card on his way out the building. And that was that, Bucky was now free the rest of the day. The street was bustling with people in business-wear pounding the pavement to get places, and the traffic was jam packed with cars honking their horns.

Bucky checked his watch. Ten-thirty. He could use a coffee. Loosening his tie and undoing the top button, Bucky dived into the busy pedestrian traffic and started walking, looking for the nearest coffee shop.

Zuccotti Park was right around the corner, so Bucky got his latte to go and headed over to the little concrete oasis that had benches to sit on and spindly little trees dotted about to give the feel of a real park.

This space would likely be rammed during lunch hour, Bucky thought. He'd have to fight to find somewhere to eat his lunch every day. Still, he liked the area.

He got his phone out as he sipped his latte. So, he thought to himself, seeing as he had a whole day to do whatever he wanted, what should he do? He opened his Wi-Fi settings and piggy-backed onto a local business's open Broadband. Anything to save his Data.

Bucky opened Google then stared at the blank screen for a moment. What should he look up first? He took a big sip of latte, hoping the caffeine hit would help his brain power.

What if he looked up this court case stuff? Bucky thought back to that day when Judge Philips had shown up at Steve's beach house, and tried to remember what Luis had said. _Court Judge in the city_ , and _trials and appeals_ , was all Bucky's memory mustered. Usually he was better at recalling conversations, but Luis had talked so fast.

"Okay, then," Bucky murmured. He set down his coffee and started tapping words into the Google search bar. _Judge Philips, NYC._

He hit search and looked at the results. Nothing jumped out at first, but there was a lot of results for Philips. A biography and photo at a site called Trellis Law, whatever that was. A profile on Bloomberg with another smiling picture of Philips, and a site called Court Innovation. Probably this was the same Judge Philips then.

Out of curiosity, Bucky clicked on one of the profiles because he wanted to check where Philips was from. San Saba, Texas. He'd been right about the accent then.

Philips was in his sixties. Judges were usually around this age, right? Bucky had no idea, and his main grasp of court law came from his mom's love of old Law and Order re-runs.

Bucky opened a new tab, saving the Philips research for later. He typed into the new tab, _upcoming court cases NYC._

The first result was a government page from the Criminal Court Unified system. Bucky's eyes drifted down to the 'people also ask' section, and looked at the first question listed: _How do I look up court cases in New York?_

That seemed useful. He clicked on that. _You can make a request for court records directly to the Clerk of the Court_ , he read, _or the County Clerk that has the records. Criminal records are available from the court system..._

Bucky looked up, eyes wide as the epiphany hit him. If Steve was really a criminal, then he probably had a criminal record on file. Bucky could look that up as easily as if he was checking out a book at a library.

He looked back at his screen and read on. Apparently each records search cost sixty-five dollars. Shit, he thought.

Also, wouldn't he have to give his name to the courts if he wanted to request files? What if Steve found out and was pissed? He'd better do more research before he dived into this officially, Bucky thought.

And, he'd need more cash to pay for it.

He sipped his coffee, thinking. If he did do a records search, what would he do if the results didn't tell him anything new? What if Steve's record was clean somehow? Then Bucky would be back at square one.

Besides, he was more interested in this upcoming court case Luis had mentioned. How the hell would Bucky know which court case it was?

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember what Luis had said. The case was for a man, Bucky was sure of that. _In a few weeks_ , Luis had said, too. Bucky was fairly certain. Not that that helped, it was so vague. A few could mean anything from three to six, or more than that.

What else had Luis said? The guy who had worked with Steve had done something that sent him down, then he fingered Steve and others which made Steve look bad.

That'd been more or less what Luis had said. It didn't give Bucky a lot to go on. He wasn't sure what _fingered_ meant, maybe accuse Steve of something? Or rat him out?

Bucky tried Google again, typing in variations of _court case_ and _trial_ , along with Philips name and Steve's name. Nothing really stood out to him in the results. There was a whole bunch of guys awaiting trials and appeals. So either Bucky needed more Intel, or he needed to practice being a detective.

Maybe he should start watching Law and Order again.

He sat there mulling it over, finishing his coffee. His stomach rumbled, so he decided to get up and head back to Wall Street station. He'd get a train uptown, get some food and go home.

In the station, Bucky looked at the subway map and realised Hell's Kitchen was pretty close, maybe a ten, fifteen minute train ride away. What if he dropped into the gym to see Steve?

And ask him what? Hey, Steve, tell me about your criminal record? Bucky pulled a face as he pondered his options. Or, he thought, he could drop in somewhere else and dig for Intel. Was Dugan's bar open?

He got out his phone to check, searching on Google. The details said it opened at eleven, which by the time Bucky got there would be after eleven. And, he was hungry and Dugan's had great food.

Excellent idea, he told himself. He got on a train heading uptown, and started preparing questions in his head he could ask.

Bucky got off the subway at West 42nd Street, right in the heart of Hell's Kitchen.

He only had to walk a couple blocks to Dugan's bar, using Google maps as his guide. Bucky approached the bar at an angle from the front, pausing at the wide intersection on the street. He had a side on view of the bar, able to see Dernier's auto shop down the side street with the tyres still lined up out front. Bucky recalled the other older man who'd been in the auto shop, the one with the maybe-German accent. Abe? If Bucky could find out who he was, maybe that would shed more light on things.

He waited at the lights then crossed over. The air was hot outside, and Bucky wanted to get out of the sun for a moment.

It was only when he stood in front of Dugan's bar, looking at the narrow open doorway, that it occurred to Bucky about asking Steve's permission to go inside.

Did he need permission? It was an open bar.

Bucky peeped his head in the door, scoping out the inside that he hadn't seen himself yet because he'd been out back in the kitchen.

It wasn't even a big bar, just a long narrow room with an old fashioned bar down the right side, and a few seats and tables off to the left. Small yet cosy, with some gentle folksy music playing. Bob Dylan, perhaps.

Well, Bucky thought, taking his first step inside, why ask permission now when he can ask forgiveness later? (A line his sister had often used, and he was starting to see why.)

The patrons dotted around seemed like regular guys, quietly sipping their drinks or eating bar snacks as they chatted. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Bucky's stomach rumbled hard when the delicious kitchen smells wafted up to greet his nose. He really wanted some food.

He approached the bar cautiously, spotting Dugan behind it with his recognisable handlebar mustache and his bowler hat. He was leaning in to talk with two men on the other side of the bar: Monty, whom Bucky recognised from the kitchen, and an Asian man Bucky didn't recognise.

Monty spotted him first. "Hello, old sport," he called over with his cut glass English accent. "On your lunch break, are you?"

Bucky broke into a smile, relieved at the friendly reception. "Yeah," he replied. "Well, just on my way home from an interview and looking for something to eat."

Dugan's face lit up. "And you came to us? See!" he bellowed, clapping his hands in delight. "Loyal customers! Grab a seat, young man. Monty, get the lad some Colcannon."

Monty eased himself off the barstool. "Sit here," he said to Bucky, gesturing at his seat. "This is Jim Morita, by the way. Jim, Bucky."

"Hey, Bucky," the other man said, with a slight Californian lilt to his accent. "Interesting name. Short for something?"

"Yes." Bucky smiled, sliding onto the barstool next to Jim. "My awful middle name."

Jim chuckled, while Dugan laughed loudly. "Can't be that bad," Dugan boomed.

"Oh, it is," Bucky assured him, then cleared his throat. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"Course not," Dugan said. "I'll have some Colcannon too," he directed to Monty. "It's almost lunchtime."

Jim pointedly looked at his watch. "It's not even eleven-thirty."

"Almost lunchtime," Dugan repeated. "I'm a growing man."

"Growing sideways," Monty teased, before disappearing through the kitchen door as Dugan yelled after him.

It was all good natured banter, and made Bucky feel at ease.

"Anyway," Dugan directed to Jim, "isn't it about time you opened up?"

"Few minutes yet," Jim retorted, then noticed Bucky's quizzical look. "I run the bookies' across the street. You wanna place a bet, come see me."

"Um, thanks?" Bucky said. "Bet on what?"

This made Jim and Dugan laugh, and Bucky felt naïve all of a sudden.

"Anything you want," Jim told him. "Horses, mainly."

"Oh," Bucky said, and he remembered catching Steve, Luis and Gabe all gathered around listening to a horse race. Did they bet too?

"I've never betted on anything with money," Bucky said.

Dugan, halfway through pouring out a glass of beer, paused. "Wait, are you old enough to be in here?"

"Yes, I'm over twenty-one," Bucky said.

Dugan nodded, finished pouring the beer and set it down in front of Bucky. "Try that, then. My own brew!"

Jim leaned in to whisper, "Don't risk it."

Dugan laughed loudly. "Don't listen to him, he's just jealous I got my own hops. Go on, lad, bottoms up."

Bucky felt put on the spot, and he wasn't the biggest beer fan but he figured he'd best try it. He picked up his glass and took a sip of the beer. Thankfully it tasted quite nice, light and almost citrusy.

"Mm, good," he said, to Dugan's satisfaction.

"Hah! See," Dugan said to Jim. "Just because you don't like it..."

He and Jim bantered back and forth, and Bucky wasn't able to get a word in. He politely sipped on his beer and stayed quiet.

After quite a few minutes, Monty came out of the kitchen carrying two platefuls of hot food. Jim checked his watch and said he'd better go open up his store, so he said his goodbyes and left the bar.

Monty took Jim's vacant seat, delicately sipping a bottle of Perrier as Dugan and Bucky dug into their food.

Bucky was so grateful to eat, and the creamy mashed potato along with the ham hock and egg on top was just as delicious as the first time he'd tried it.

Dugan inhaled his food at a rate of knots, then poured himself a beer from the tap. "You have fun at the beach house?" he asked Bucky.

"Oh, yeah," Bucky said, still working through his food. "It's amazing."

"Sure is," Dugan agreed.

Bucky saw his opening, and he took it. "The FEDs dropped by yesterday morning." He watched Dugan's and Monty's reactions closely. "Kinda strange."

Dugan chortled under his breath. "Nah, they're always sniffing around. You'll get used to it."

Bucky blinked at that. "Oh?"

"They haven't been in here for a while," Monty mentioned, as Dugan gave him a stern look.

"Now, don't go saying that," Dugan bellowed. "You'll jinx us."

Monty only chuckled. "Are you up to date on your tax returns, old boy?"

Dugan frowned at him. "I always am. You shut yer yap."

Clearly they weren't concerned about the FEDs, Bucky thought. Perhaps he was barking up the wrong tree. He should've asked about Judge Philips instead.

Would it be super obvious if his next question was about Philips? Bucky hesitated, quietly eating his food as he turned the questions over in his mind. One question, or casually mentioning something was okay, he thought, but if he asked another, surely it would come off as suspicious?

Bucky realised it'd been foolish on his part to come here with the hopes of digging into Philips, or the mysterious court case. He had hoped maybe he'd just happen to overhear something incriminating, but now he realised he was being impatient. He'd have to play the long game for digging around.

So, what else could he ask about that wasn't so glaringly obvious he was being nosy? Bucky finished his food, and complimented Monty on the cooking. That seemed to please him, and it gave Bucky an idea.

"It's nice to be, you know..." Bucky gestured at the bar. "Eating out here instead of the kitchen.

Dugan and Monty exchanged a look, and Bucky immediately felt the shift in tension.

"Yeah, you won't catch Steve eating in a restaurant," Dugan said quietly.

Bucky waited for him to elaborate, but he sidled off to server a customer at the other end of the bar.

"Why won't he eat in a restaurant?" Bucky asked Monty. "Isn't it safe?"

"Well..." Monty tilted his head, considering. "It's less risky in the back, of course. The thing is, old man Rogers died in a restaurant, and since then none of the family want to be in the same surroundings, which is understandable."

"You mean Steve's dad?" Bucky asked, as Monty nodded once. "That's awful. I didn't know."

"And best keep mum on the subject, if I were you, lad," Monty told him in a whisper.

Bucky nodded. He hadn't expected to uncover some sort of family tragedy, and it made him feel sorry for Steve.

Poor Steve.

Bucky still had a dozen more questions about this new to him incident but he didn't want Monty or Dugan reporting back to Steve that he'd been asking nosy questions.

Long game, he reminded himself.

A few more patrons came into the bar shortly after, and Bucky thought it was a good time to move along.

He tried to pay for his meal, but Dugan said he'd put it on Steve's tab. Bucky wasn't about to argue, so he thanked Dugan and Monty, and went on his way, his tummy full of food.

Bucky planned to walk the couple blocks down to Flannagan's gym. It would be quicker than getting a bus in the lunchtime traffic, and also give him an opportunity to think.

He still had a lot of questions, though as he examined all the facts he now had in his head, Bucky realised he'd made progress in building up more of a picture of Steve. It wasn't a _complete_ picture yet, but it was more than he'd had before, and that was something.

Although, it was simply awful to think about Steve's dad dying in a restaurant. Had he been alone, or with his family when it happened? Was it part of something violent like an attack, or had the poor man simply had a heart attack or something? It could've just been a regular death, no other cause to it. Tragic, but natural.

Then again, if he'd died a natural death, why would Steve still be so averse to sitting in a restaurant nearly a decade later? No, Bucky thought. It had to be something violent.

A realisation hit Bucky then: if the death happened to be a violent crime (which was Bucky's hunch the more he thought about it) then surely it would be listed as such in police records. Heck, it would probably be on old news sites on Google for free, never mind paying for records.

More stuff for Bucky to research later. Thought this was more of his own personal interest in Steve, and separate from Bucky's research into the Steve's current activities. His hunch told him that a historic tragedy, crime or not, probably didn't have anything to do with the upcoming court case Steve was involved in.

Bucky's gut feeling told him they weren't connected.

It was still hot outside so Bucky took his tie off, stuffing it into his bag. He undid another button on his shirt, opening the collar.

He wished he didn't have to wear office clothes, they were kind of a pain in hot weather. Bucky made sure his stroll was leisurely so he didn't arrive all damp and sweaty at the gym.

Although, he would've fit in more if he was damp and sweaty, he supposed.

When Bucky went inside the gym, things were much the same as normal. Same bored looking guy on the front desk reading a Men's Health magazine. Same gym noises: shouts and thumps echoing off walls, some punk rock music playing on the speakers.

The long walk down the hallway was the most nerve wracking, hearing all the sounds before reaching the gym itself.

Inside the gym hall there was plenty of people about: guys in both rings boxing, lots of people looking on and shouting at them. Bucky couldn't see Steve, and looked around left and right.

One guy at the nearest ring spotted Bucky. Scott, Bucky remembered. (And Luis's former cell mate, apparently, according to Luis.) He seemed pleasant enough and he came over to Bucky.

"Hey," he greeted. "Bucky, right? You looking for Steve?"

Bucky nodded. "If he's busy I can come by another time."

"No, he's just warming up," Scott said, and gestured across the gym. "Go around the corner there, you'll see him."

"Thanks," Bucky said, and started to walk away.

"Oh, hey," Scott said, making Bucky pause. "Steve mentioned you wanted to start a self defence course?"

Bucky felt his face go white as a sheet. Since when had a couple classes turned into _a course?_

"Um," he said, floundering.

Scott, seemingly unaware of Bucky's reluctance, simply smiled at him. "Steve has my schedule so just book in when you want."

"Thanks," Bucky forced out. "I'll talk to him." Then he hurried away before he signed himself up to anything else.

Now came the other awkward part of being inside a gym: walking past sweaty gym Bros who were working out. Enormous punching bags hung suspended from the ceiling, with one or two guys to each bag yelling encouragement to each other and making Bucky jump a couple times.

It was all so aggressive and so alien to Bucky, although his eyes did linger on all the bare skin and muscles on display.

He was only human.

There were mats on the floor, and some weights machines (Bucky didn't know their specific names) situated on this side of the gym. Bucky frantically searched for Steve among all the dudes, finally spotting him over in an alcove, his fists hammering a small punching bag attached to the lower part of the overhang.

Steve was in workout clothes too, and Bucky stopped short to stare. Holy moly, he thought, his eyes raking over Steve's form. Just like that evening in the hot tub, Bucky couldn't help but stare. Steve had on shorts and a tight tank but it wasn't just the clothes that made him stare, it was watching Steve work out. Bucky hadn't seen Steve punching anything until now, and he was mesmerized watching Steve work the bag.

(Bucky didn't know if it was called a bag, it looked like a small red ball hanging down.)

Steve's lower body was still, his upper body doing all the work as he pounded the bag in short, sharp jabs, his fist a blur in motion. His hands were wrapped in white tape and his impressive biceps were all bunched and bulging with the exertion, his skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Steve's focus was fixed on the bag, switching hands to punch with his left, then his right, then his left again.

Scott had said this was a warm up? Bucky was curious to see Steve really go for it in the ring. He could imagine the force behind a punch from Steve, and it kind of left him in awe thinking about Steve's strength in general.

But Bucky couldn't stand there gawking all day, so he had to edge his way into view. When Steve noticed him, he stopped punching and stepped away from the bag so it didn't smack him in the face.

"Bucky," he said, only sounding a little breathless. "Hey." He smiled brightly.

"Uh, hi," Bucky managed, still somewhat overwhelmed by how handsome a breathless and sweaty Steve was. "I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"No, just warming up," Steve said easily. "What's up?"

And Bucky already had a great excuse for stopping by, in case he'd needed it. "Um, well," he said, lowering his voice, "I was just coming back from my interview so I thought I'd drop off my, um. You know, my first payment."

A smile played on Steve's lips, like he saw right through Bucky's thin excuse. "Alright," he said. "You want to come to my office?"

"Sure," Bucky agreed.

Steve walked him through the gym, and opened his office door. Bucky went in first, with Steve right behind him.

"Want a drink?" Steve offered, closing the door behind them. "I got water, or an endless supply of energy drinks."

"Water would be great," Bucky said. He waited until Steve had gone to the mini refrigerator and retrieved the bottled water before he mentioned casually, "I was just at Dugan's."

He watched Steve's face for a reaction, and Steve did look at him with mild interest as he handed over the water bottle.

"Oh, yeah?" Steve went and perched on the arm of the leather couch, opening his own bottle of water to take a long drink.

"Yeah," Bucky said, fidgeting for a moment before he decided to dump his bag and jacket on the couch. He opened his bottle and took a sip of cold water. "The place I interviewed for was close by, and I was so hungry."

Steve stopped drinking and grinned at him. "Good idea. What did you have?"

"Colcannon, again." Bucky smiled back. So, he thought, Steve didn't seem to mind him going to Dugan's.

That was good to know.

"Oh," he said, digging in his pocket for the cash. "Here." He offered out the twenty-five in rumpled notes.

"Thanks, Bucky." Steve took the money, still with a lopsided grin on his face, and pocketed it. "This could've waited, you didn't have to rush on down here."

Bucky shrugged. "It's okay. I may not have the time later because of this job. I'm starting tomorrow."

Now Steve looked surprised. "Wow, that's fast. Congratulations. They must like you."

Bucky smiled, and shrugged again. "Maybe. Or, it could just be a temp position for a week and then they'll let me go. Had that happen before."

"Sounds kinda stressful," Steve mused. He slid off the arm and onto the couch cushion, then patted the seat next to him. "Take a load off. Did you walk from Dugan's?"

"I did." Bucky steeled himself and sat down on the couch, right next to Steve. "It's a nice day out."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, twisting a little so he was facing Bucky, watching him.

Bucky felt his cheeks flush under the scrutiny, but he wasn't afraid or anything like that, he felt excited.

All those memories of making out in the hot tub came flooding back to him too, which made him hot under the collar.

He dared a side glance at Steve, wondering what would happen next. Were they just hanging out? Would everything done at the gym be business-like, or was this a place they would make out?

Bucky had no idea, but he did remember his first time in this office when Steve had touched his chin to tilt his face up and Bucky hadn't known how to react. Well, now he was prepared. Anticipating a move, even.

Steve was still watching him calmly, a small smile on his lips.

"Is, uh, is everything alright?" Bucky asked, mostly to fill the silence but also because he was still curious. "With the FEDs, I mean?"

Steve chuckled lowly. "You're a worrier, I can tell," he said. "Yeah, everything's fine, Bucky. They sniff around sometimes but that's all."

"But what if they arrest you?" Bucky blurted out, like an idiot.

"Being arrested isn't a big deal," Steve said with another chuckle, "it's whether you get charged or not. And there isn't anything the FEDs can charge me with."

"Oh," Bucky said, taken aback. "So... you've been arrested before?"

"Sure, lots of times." Steve grinned wide, and scooted a little closer on the couch. "Especially on Saint Patrick's day."

"Saint Patrick's?" Bucky repeated, very conscious of how close Steve was to him now, and Steve's sweat-shiny biceps right in his view. "What, um, what were you arrested for?"

Steve laughed lightly. "I forget now, it was some time ago. Drunk and disorderly, probably. Oh, and I did once show my ass to a line of cops during a protest, and they arrested me for incitement to violence."

"For showing your ass?" Bucky asked, his voice pitching a little high. He couldn't help picturing the scene in his mind, Steve dropping trou for the cops. Boy, he was feeling very hot under the collar now.

"Apparently so," Steve said. "Not only are cops assholes, but they have no sense of humor." He reached out one hand, tweaking Bucky's chin with his thumb and finger. "Don't you worry about any of it," he said softly, looking in Bucky's eyes.

Bucky got lost gazing back into Steve's baby blues, leaning in a fraction as he fully expected Steve to kiss him.

"Now, then," Steve said abruptly, withdrawing his hand and getting to his feet. "I have a few minutes before training starts. Why don't we get you booked in with Scott for that self defence class?"

Bucky was so surprised, it took him a moment to pull himself together and formulate a reply. He was disappointed Steve hadn't kissed him, but he filed that away for now. The more pressing matter was, he needed a good excuse to not get signed up for gym classes.

"Um," he said, as Steve opened the laptop on his desk and started tapping away. Then it occurred to Bucky that if he came to the gym for classes, it would be a solid reason to lurk and keep an eye on Steve, and also pry Scott for information.

"How's Saturday?" Steve asked, looking over at Bucky with a smile. "Or Sunday? Or you can come by after any evening you finish work?"

Bucky forced himself to smile like he was _thrilled_ to be signing up. "Sure," he agreed. "Let's do after work."

Evenings would hopefully be easier to snoop around, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Steve, what a tease! lol
> 
> And Bucky's super sleuthing begins! Lol, I just have in my head now the song 'Smooth Criminal' playing whenever he's nosing about. Like, ironically because he isn't that smooth, bless him.
> 
> Oh, if you want to check out my full picture post of Dugan's bar (which is based on Mickey Spillane's White House Bar), I posted them on tumblr [here](https://jro616.tumblr.com/post/642841384290762752/im-posting-the-pics-from-my-virtual-tour-of-45th). I couldn't help nerding out with a bit of Hell's Kitchen history there. Mickey Spillane (active 60s-70s) was head of the Irish mob, and used the White House bar as his base of operations. 
> 
> For this fic, as you can probably see now, I'm basing all of Steve's Howling Commandos in the bar and around the area (Jim Morita across the road, Jacques Dernier in the auto shop, with Monty and Pinky Pinkerton at the bar with Dugan, Erskine and Philips around too), and obvs Gabe is with Steve at their gym.  
> As you can probably guess from mob activity, the gym is the loan sharking front, while the bar and its surrounding businesses are also a front for the bookies (gambling) racket. 
> 
> This isn't full spoilers for the story, there is a lot more juicy deets to be revealed, but as Bucky is such an unreliable narrator right now I was desperate to jump in with my director's commentary. 
> 
> Mickey Spillane, the figure I based Steve's character on for this au, was a mobster, yes, but the focus of his work was to keep his neighborhood, full of poor Irish immigrants at the time, safe from outside influences or threats, or loan them money if they needed it as poor people didn't go to banks for money, they went to loan sharks. I just wanted to mention that as an insight into Steve's position in the community. As in, if you were a local Irish resident, you'd probably look up to Steve as some sort of local celebrity or someone to go to if you had a problem. 
> 
> (I'm not saying mobsters are angels or anything, just saying that some characters in life aren't so black and white, they're more grey. And I do find the grey interesting, especially in fiction.)
> 
> I hope this bit of extra background is interesting! Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> If you enjoy the story please leave me a comment, it really helps! 😄🙏
> 
> I am on [tumblr](http://jro616.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/jro616).
> 
> Fic title is from the Rihanna song btw.


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